The Small Print
by Siriusly Amused
Summary: Angstridden Hayden Weasley always knew his life was messed up, but when he's forced to enter the wizarding world, meet his famous father, deal with his magical cousins, and fall in love with his enemy, he realizes just how messed up his life really is.
1. The Potter Child

**The Small Print  
**_By Siriusly Amused_

**Author's Note: **

_If you **have not **read my fic, 'Anthem': _Then ignore this AN, glance at the disclaimer so you know that I have one, and enjoy the fic. Also…it might be best to avoid reading 'Anthem'; it might confuse you with this fic.

_If you **have** read my fic, 'Anthem': _Keep in mind that this fic is merely based off of 'Anthem'. It has a few characters from the first one, but I've also added characters, renamed characters, etc. I've also changed the plot. The theme is still the same (estranged father/son relationship), but I've added a new plot and little plot bunnies and…yeah. I think you'll enjoy this fic…I'm just telling you that it's different so that I don't get reviews saying, "Hey, this fic is different."

**Disclaimer:**

Why do I even bother with these nowadays? You guys know perfectly well that I'm not JK Rowling -bows- and that I don't own Harry Potter. Let's see…what else do I need to disclaim. Um…the rating for this fic is either a really strong T or a soft M. The first two chapters are more K, but by the third chapter, there will be strong language and angst and all that fun stuff.

**Chapter One:**

_The Potter Child_

"Ginny!"

"In here."

Twenty-year-old Harry Potter walked briskly across the cozy kitchen and dining room of his small home and entered the living room where he found his girlfriend, Ginny, sitting on the couch, hunched over a rather large text book. Her long, red locks were pulled back into a messy ponytail and most of her front layers had fallen from the hair tie's grasp and hung over her face as she continued to hover over her book.

"Ginny, guess what!" Harry exclaimed, flailing his arms excitedly. His sudden arm movements caused a spasm of pain to ripple through his already sore muscles. Even after a year of being in the Auror Academy, Harry still found himself getting sore from the rigorous exercises. He winced and brought a hand to massage his tender shoulder.

"Hmm?" Ginny asked, finally raising her head to look at Harry. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked exhausted. Harry made a mental note to put her to bed as soon as he told her the big news.

"Ron is going to propose to Hermione…tonight!" It took all that Harry had not to shout it out. His best friends, the two people who had his back ever since he was eleven, were going to get married. They were going to live happily ever after, and Harry couldn't have been happier for them.

A small smile crossed Ginny's pale features. "Really?" she asked, her voice quiet and tired.

"Yes!" Harry said, flailing his arms once more and pacing the room in his excitement. "He showed me the ring today on our break. It's perfect! Not too flashy, just a small diamond on a silver band, but I don't think a big, honking diamond would suit Hermione anyway. He told me all about his plan. He's going to take her to that nice Muggle restaurant she likes and he said that he'll even dance with her if she wants. WITHOUT COMPLAINING!" Harry shouted the last two words for emphasis. Everyone knew that Ron loathed dancing. "Then he's going to take her to the Chudley Cannon pitch--he wanted Hogwarts, but it's September so school's back in session and he doesn't want pimply teenagers barging in on him. I told him that the Chudley Cannon pitch isn't exactly romantic, but he insists…" Harry stopped his rambling when his eyes fell on Ginny. She was still sitting cross-legged on the couch, her book in her lap, but her eyes were no longer focused on Harry or the book. She seemed to be in a different world entirely. And she looked worried.

"Ginny? What's wrong?" Harry asked softly, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the coffee table and take Ginny's hands into his own. "I thought you'd be thrilled."

"Oh, Harry, I am. I'm really, really thrilled. They deserve their happiness," Ginny replied, snapping out of her trance and attempting a smile.

"Then what's wrong?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow. Ginny hadn't been the same lately. It was as if her studying to become a Charms teacher was draining her of all her energy.

"Harry, I…" Ginny stopped and her eyes flickered towards the window.

"I didn't see any paparazzi in the bushes when I came in," Harry mentioned, noticing her movement.

Ginny quickly grabbed her wand. "We can never be too careful," she stated, performing a quick silencing charm around the room. Harry wondered what was up that she needed to use the silencing charm. He gazed at her quizzically once she finished. She merely sighed and tightened her grasp on his hands.

"Harry, I'm pregnant." She said it with a straight face, her brown eyes gazing into Harry's green ones. Harry merely stared back for what seemed like an eternity. The statement just wasn't computing in his head.

"Pardon?" he asked at last.

"I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Harry repeated.

"Yes."

"As in, my child is in your uterus right this moment?" Harry continued.

Ginny sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes. Harry released her hands and brought his own hands up to run themselves through his ever messy mane.

"I'm going to be a father," he whispered to himself.

"Yes, you are," Ginny stated, adjusting her position on the couch and continuing her reading.

"A father," Harry repeated. "I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down, Harry."

"Then I need to lay down. Or get a stiff drink."

"I gave all the alcohol that was in the house to Mum," Ginny announced, not looking up from her book. "The caffeine too. I'm not taking any chances with this baby."

"YOU THREW OUT THE COFEE, YOU MAD WOMAN?"

"Harry, keep your voice down! The silencing charm I cast was a weak one due to my pregnancy making me tired; people can hear you if you shout. Honestly, I thought you grew out of your yelling stage after your fifth year!"

"I had coffee after my fifth year!"

Ginny smirked and closed her book (_Complex Charms_). "Listen, Harry, we need to get a few things straight before we tell everyone…"

"Does anyone know?"

"I've only told you so far, though my mum might have suspected something after I handed over the fire whiskey. Anyway…" Ginny continued, taking a deep breath and tucking stray locks of hair behind her ears. "First, I need to know if you want to be the father of this baby. If you want to leave, that's fine, but I'm having the baby."

Harry nearly choked on his own spittle.

"How can you even ask that?" Harry sputtered. "Of course I want to be the father! Do you honestly think that I wouldn't want to be a part of every aspect of this child's life?"

Ginny smiled. Her face lit up and her eyes sparkled momentarily.

"I didn't think that, Harry. I just needed to be sure."

"Women and their bloody need for reassurance," Harry muttered under his breath. Ginny playfully hit him upside his head.

"Well, with that taken care of, I'll move onto the next issue." Harry cocked his head to the side inquisitively. Ginny took a deep breath; she seemed to be gathering her strength to tell Harry this next issue.

"I think we should move." She said it so quickly that it took Harry a moment to process it.

"Well, yeah…" he agreed once his mind registered what she said. "This place isn't big enough for three people. We'll give it to Ron and Hermione as a wedding present. It can be their little love nest until they have little ones of their own. And I'll buy some land not so far from here and build a big house on it. Two stories…maybe three, mind you I want twelve children."

"No, Harry," Ginny said softly, her eyes gazing at the floor.

"Fine, ten then. Trelawney predicted twelve, but when have I lived up to her predictions?" Harry paused and thought about his own words. "Well, besides that one…"

"No!" Ginny said much more loudly, causing Harry to stop his ramblings. "We need to move far away! Where no one can find us…"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

Ginny nodded to the paper lying next to Harry on the coffee table. It was the _Daily Prophet _and on it's front page was a picture of Harry from earlier that day. He was getting a cup of coffee to go from a shop in Diagon Alley on his way to the Auror Academy. Harry had grown so used to the media tracking his every move throughout the years that he barely noticed when they were taking his picture these days.

"Do I really look that tired in the morning?" Harry joked, gazing at his picture.

"Harry, I don't want our child to grow up famous," Ginny stated.

"That'll be kind of hard. I've been trying to lose my fame for years."

"Which is why we need to go someplace secluded," Ginny continued. "I'll start showing in a couple of months; we'll need to have a place by then. Once we're alone, we can think of how we want to raise our child."

"We'll be completely cut off from the world?" Harry asked.

"Well, my family will know where we are and will more than less likely visit often," Ginny replied, leaning back against the sofa cushions. "Hermione too…though I guess Hermione is my family now," she added with a slight smile.

Harry opened his mouth to say 'mine too' when he realized that he wasn't technically married to Ginny. He suddenly felt as though a bucket of ice was dumped in his stomach.

"Shit," Harry cursed under his breath.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, concerned.

"Your brothers are going to kill me."

-------

It always amazed Ginny how much her family had grown over the past three years. Bill and Fleur were married and had a beautiful 2-year-old boy named Phillip. Charlie was engaged to Christine, a red-headed beauty that he had befriended in Hogwarts and had recently caught up with. Percy was…out of the picture…but doing well and engaged to Penelope from what Ginny heard. George was seeing Katie, though there were no plans of an engagement; and Fred was married to Luna Lovegood. No one was quite sure how that couple had come to be, but Luna was one of the family now and the happy couple were expecting their first child. And of course there was Ron and Hermione, but to be honest, Ginny had thought of Hermione as her sister ever since she was thirteen.

Her siblings and their significant others were situated around a beaming Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the living room. The Weasley parents had invited their children over for a big Sunday dinner. These Sunday dinners were becoming quite common for the brood.

Harry and Ginny arrived at The Burrow last and told everyone that they had a special announcement to make after dinner. Ginny watched her family members' reactions with amusement. As soon as the words, 'special announcement,' were out of her mouth, all five of her brothers shared knowing grins, Mrs. Weasley clasped her hands to her chest as her eyes filled with tears of joy, Mr. Weasley proudly clapped Harry on the back, and Fleur, Christine, Katie, Hermione and Luna all brought their heads together and started whispering excitedly.

Dinner was a happy affair, though it passed all too quickly. It seemed as though each and every member of her family had eaten in record time in an attempt to get to the announcement. Ginny was dragged into the living room before she could even ask what was for dessert. Her family was gazing at her expectedly, all of them smiling widely. Hermione and Luna were sitting on the floor together (seeing as there just wasn't enough furniture in the room to hold everyone). The two women were whispering excitedly about what color their bridesmaid dresses would be at Ginny's wedding. That only made Ginny's smirk wider.

"Quiet, you two," Ron shushed from his position on the couch. "I want to hear their big announcement!" Ron and the rest of Ginny's brothers exchanged proud grins.

"Well," Harry started, putting an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Ginny and I…"

The entire Weasley family leaned forward expectantly.

"That is, we're…" Harry was tensing under their stares. Ginny sighed.

"I'm pregnant," she stated calmly.

Ginny watched, amused, as her family's faces turned from proud grins, to opened mouth surprise, to grimaces. Ron was the first one to spring up and hit Harry. The other Weasley brothers (Bill and Charley included) weren't far behind. Harry spent the rest of the night with an ice pack on his face.

-------

**Trouble in Paradise?**

**We all want to see our hero, Harry Potter, happy, writes Daily Prophet reporter, Jessica Taylor. He seems happy dating the beautiful Ginny Weasley, but trouble may have reared its head in paradise. Reports of an argument in which Harry shouted, "You threw the coffee out, you mad woman?" were heard by passersby outside of the couple's home during the early evening hours of September 15th. Several days later, they were seen leaving the home of Ginny's parents. Harry sported a badly bruised face and speculation indicates that a fight between The Boy Who Lived and Ginny's brothers took place. Has Harry Potter really found the love of his life, or will he jump into the dating pool soon? Only time will tell.**

-------

"Get out of my way!"

Harry sipped his cup of coffee and stared across the room as an apparently grumpy Draco Malfoy entered it. Ron turned toward Harry and rolled his eyes at Draco's behavior as the blonde man stomped to the small refrigerator and gazed into it.

"Who the hell drank all the milk?" he asked to no one in particular, slamming the refrigerator door behind himself as he whipped around to glare at other Auror students.

"Who died and made you Head Auror-in-Training?" Ron asked vindictively, his blue eyes filled with animosity for his former schoolmate.

Draco Malfoy had risked his life during the final year of the war and had helped Harry find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. His good deeds had allowed him to be pardoned by the Ministry for his actions during their sixth year, but that did not mean that either Harry or Ron had forgiven him. Both continued to blame the blonde for Dumbledore's death.

Draco's angered glare fell upon his two former schoolmates. "Pansy's pregnant!" he shouted suddenly, shocking Harry and Ron with both the news of his impending fatherhood and the fact that he was sharing it with them. "She's pregnant with my child so I thought I'd do the noble thing and ask her to marry me and she said no!" Draco continued, rambling away as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. "She's joining some feminist cult. She doesn't want to get married. She doesn't even want to have the baby! She's going to…to…"

"Abort it?" Harry supplied, his throat going dry as he placed himself in Draco's shoes, imagining how he would feel if Ginny suddenly decided to give up their child.

Draco turned toward him, desperation showing in his eyes. "Why do I not have a say in whether or not my child lives or dies?" Draco asked in a fierce whisper before turning back to add sugar to his coffee. "And why the hell won't she marry me? I'm ridiculously good-looking!"

Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes at the comment, but Harry looked pensive.

"Ron?" Harry asked after a moment of silence. "Could Hermione maybe help Draco out?"

Both Draco and Ron spat out the coffee that they were drinking in shock. Harry jumped away from the spray, gracing his best friend and his…whatever…with an odd look at their behavior.

"Hermione help the ferret?"

"Granger help me?"

Harry blinked. "Well, yeah. I mean, she's the head of that new branch in the Ministry. The one dealing with rights and stuff. I know she mostly deals with elves, centaurs and giants, but surely fathers have rights too."

"Why would the Mudblood help me?" Draco asked, sidestepping Ron who made a move as if to punch him.

Harry gritted his teeth, nearly ready to take it all back. "She'd help you if we," he indicated himself and Ron, "asked her to. And if you want us to ask her, you better stop using that name!"

"All right, all right!" Draco said nearly at once, raising his hands in an effort to qualm Harry. "I'll never say the word again…if she helps me."

"Harry," Ron stated, looking Harry fiercely in the eye, "we don't have to help him."

"Ron," Harry replied, meeting the fierce gaze, "Hermione will become pregnant with your child some day."

The three were silent for several minutes as Harry and Ron continued to stare at each other with narrowed eyes.

"Oh yes, the wedding of the year…" Draco stated conversationally between Harry and Ron after the silence became too much for him. "Congratulations, Weasley. I've always known you'd get with the Mu…with Granger," he hastily corrected himself.

There was a brief silence where Ron and Harry continued to gaze ardently at one another, as if they were talking to each other telepathically, and Draco merely stood between them.

"Am I invited to the wedding?" Draco asked at last.

"No," Ron replied quickly. He sighed. "But I'll ask Hermione to help you with your…child problem."

Harry sighed in relief, Ron looked as though he were about to vomit, and a slight smile pulled at the corners of Draco's lips. The blonde one seemed as though he didn't know what to say; his mouth continually opened and closed as if he were about to thank Ron, but couldn't bring himself to utter the words. Luckily for all three men, the bell sounding the end of their break tolled and they trudged back into their exercises with the rest of their fellow Aurors-in-Training.

-------

"You want _me _to help _Draco_?" Hermione Granger asked, barely believing her own voice. She gazed into the mirror that she was standing in front of to see the man she considered to be her soul mate and the man she considered to be her brother nod stupidly back at her over her shoulder.

Hermione, the other two thirds of the trio, and Molly Weasley were standing in the cramped living room of Hermione's apartment. Typically, the living room was spotless, but it had morphed into a disaster area over the past week. With two of her bridesmaids being pregnant, Hermione had decided (and Ron, who didn't care much either way, agreed) to have the wedding as soon as possible.

Bridal magazines, business cards of caterers, and a guest list that could be rolled across the entire room littered the floor. Hermione herself stood on a stool, clad in a lovely white gown that Mrs. Weasley was making for the wedding. Mrs. Weasley hunched behind Hermione, randomly sticking pins into the dress.

"Um, Mrs. Weasley? The bodice is a bit tight," Hermione mentioned, blushing slightly whilst turning her head to glance down at the woman behind her.

"Call me Molly or Mum, love," Mrs. Weasley replied, continuing her work of sticking pins into the dress. "And you have a wonderful figure that deserves to be shown off on your special day."

"Yeah," Ron quipped, smiling slyly at Hermione. "Absolutely wonderful figure."

Hermione turned her head to give Ron an odd look. It was as if she wanted to scold him, but was prohibited by the large smile breaking through her scowl. Molly straightened and smiled at her youngest son.

"You like the dress then, Ron?" Molly asked, brushing her red locks off of her sweaty forehead.

"It's beautiful," Ron replied, leaning against the wall and staring at Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley smiled playfully and bent over once again to fuss over Hermione's dress. "If you like this, Ron, just wait until you see what the girls and I picked out for Hermione to wear on the wedding night!"

"MOLLY!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. Ron quickly turned a marvelous shade of magenta. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Could we stay on the subject please?" The Boy Who Lived asked exasperatedly.

"Yes," agreed Ron. "Let's go back to talking about Hermione's wonderful figure."

"We are not talking about my figure!" Hermione stated, blushing slightly.

"We're talking about helping Draco Malfoy!" Harry announced. Saying the words 'helping' and 'Draco Malfoy' in the same sentence was a weird experience for Harry.

"Oh," Hermione and Ron said simultaneously, their faces falling.

"Harry, we don't have to help him," Hermione added quietly, echoing Ron from earlier. "Right Ron?" Hermione asked, gazing at the red-head. Ron, who didn't look happy about helping Draco, merely shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed down at his feet. "Ron?" Hermione asked again.

"I wouldn't help him," Mrs. Weasley piped in angrily, jabbing a pin roughly into the fabric and pricking Hermione slightly. "Sorry, Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley apologized when Hermione jumped. "That boy is a menace to society and his spawn…"

"You're a woman," Harry interrupted, scowling and pacing the room.

"Pardon?" Mrs. Weasley asked, straightening.

"I think what Harry means, Mum," Ron chimed in, looking up from his shoes, "is that, women get to choose whether or not they have children. Imagine what it would be like if we lived in a world where men got to make that decision. What if you got pregnant and Dad decided he didn't want a kid and you were forced to abort it whether you wanted to or not?"

Both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were silent as they stared at Ron.

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said at last, glancing between Harry and Ron. "You boys are putting yourselves in Draco's shoes. Imagining what it would be like if you were forced to give up your child." Mrs. Weasley glanced sternly at Hermione. "You're not pregnant too, are you?"

"Of course not!" Hermione assured her soon to be mother-in-law before turning a warm face back to Ron. "Oh, Ron!" she exclaimed, jumping off of the stool and running into Ron's arms.

"So will you help him then?" Harry asked as Hermione was pulled away from Ron by Mrs. Weasley and placed back on the stool.

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied, smiling brightly. "However, I think it would be best to leave the Ministry out of this. The legality of abortion has been disputed in Muggle courts for ages now, and let's just say it isn't pretty. But Pansy is easily persuaded, especially when we offer something she wants."

"But what does Pansy want?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"Well, in our Hogwarts days, she wanted Draco," Hermione replied, smoothing out her dress while she thought. "But you said Draco proposed and she turned him down?"

"Yeah. Draco said she joined some feminist cult or something."

To Harry's surprise, Hermione issued a short laugh. "I've heard about that cult. It's a bunch of Death Eater's daughters trying to take over the world."

"Is it something we should be concerned about?" Harry asked, his save-the-world attitude coming into play.

"No, they're all bimbos," Hermione replied shortly. "They spent their entire start-up fund on pretty uniforms."

"Which means they need money," Harry realized.

"And Draco's loaded," Ron added, a bit bitterly.

"Problem solved," Hermione concluded with a wave of her hand. "Honestly, Mrs. Weasley, does the bodice need to be this tight?"

-------

**Fairy Tale Wedding**

**Harry Potter's two best friends have tied the knot in what is being called the wedding of the year, writes Daily Prophet reporter, Jessica Taylor. The lavish ceremony held last night, October 5th, in the gardens of Potter Manor (the home Harry inherited from his family but does not live in due to it being too 'big and fancy' for him) boasted a guest list of nearly 300 people. "It was supposed to be friends and family only," the happy groom revealed. "Then we realized just how many friends we have and how big our families are," he added with his trademark lopsided grin. **

**The beautiful bride, dressed in a ravishing hand-made gown, her hair falling across her shoulders in romantic curls, added, "I originally wanted a small, private wedding, but I'm happy with the number of guests. Quite frankly, the whole world could have shown up. I'm too happy to care."**

**There were five groomsmen (Harry Potter was the Best Man and four of Ron's brothers stood up with the happy couple) and five bridesmaids (Ginny Weasley being the Maid of Honor). The men looked very handsome in black dress robes and the bridesmaids all wore matching lavender dresses that were gathered just under their chests, the need for it being to hide Luna Weasley's slightly rounded belly (Luna is carrying Fred Weasley's first child).**

**Though the main focus of the wedding was, of course, on the bride and groom, many people could not help but stare at a different couple. Harry Potter and his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, seemed to be in their own little world at times, sparking speculation over whether or not they'll be the next to get married.**

**"I haven't heard anything about them getting married," remarked Harry's long time friend, Seamus Finnigan. "They're just letting Ron and Hermione have their moment. Can you imagine Harry and Ginny's wedding though? If this one is the wedding of the year, Harry's will be the wedding of the millennium!"**

**Yes, Mr. Finnigan. Yes it will be.**

-------

"Which is exactly why we're not getting married anytime soon," Ginny stated, folding the newspaper and placing it on the countertop in her new kitchen. She and Harry had moved into a quaint cabin, hidden in a forest deep in the heart of Scotland, mere days after Ron and Hermione's wedding. Harry looked up from unpacking a box of kitchen supplies and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"You know," he said, blushing slightly. "We could always do it in secret."

"What? Get married?" Ginny asked, unconsciously rubbing the slight round of her stomach that had just appeared within the week. Harry nodded. "Harry, you know that nothing with you is secret," Ginny replied. "No one in our family or close circle of friends is qualified to perform a wedding, and I'm sure we won't be able to find someone who is qualified and will keep our secret. Besides," Ginny blushed, "What if I kind of want the fairy tale wedding that Ron and Hermione had?"

"You want three hundred people and the press at your wedding?" Harry asked, shocked. "I always thought you'd want a smaller wedding, Gin."

"Well, I want everyone I love to be at my wedding, so that gives me the same problem that Ron and Hermione had. We've had so many people befriend us and help us throughout the years. Let's face it, Harry, we just have a lot of friends."

"And a lot of enemies," Harry reasoned.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, her hand unconsciously going to her stomach again.

"Which brings us here. To figure out what to do about…" Harry trailed off and nodded toward Ginny's stomach. "I've been giving this a lot of thought, Ginny, and I think the only way we can keep our child completely safe from prying eyes is if both of us just disappear."

"Just…stay here in this cabin for years?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes wide.

Harry nodded.

"We wouldn't be completely alone," he added hastily. "Like you said, your family knows where we are. I actually wouldn't be surprised if Ron and Hermione build a cabin close by and raise their kids here as well. They like to follow me, you see."

Ginny laughed outright by his comment; her laughter filled the kitchen. "You're right," she stated between giggles. Harry smiled at her.

"And in time we could probably tell, like, Neville and a handful of other trustworthy friends. Lupin and Tonks of course. Other than that, we'll just disappear for everyone else. Until…" Harry paused, his brilliant eyes looking down at his trainers.

"Until?" Ginny pressed, drawing the word out questioningly.

"I really want our child to go to Hogwarts," Harry announced, almost apologetically.

"Of course, Harry," Ginny replied, her eyes warm as she left her spot and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend. "I think if we do our job as parents right, our child will be stable enough to be introduced to fame at eleven and keep a level head. Besides, after a decade of hiding, I think both of us will be ready to go back into the real world anyway."

"It's settled then," Harry said, giving Ginny a quick peck on the lips. "Except for the whole marriage thing. I know you want a big, fairy tale wedding, but we can't do that now. And we can't just not get married. What would our child think of non-married parents? He or she will need stability."

"So what are we going to do?" Ginny asked. "That still doesn't change the fact that we don't know anyone trustworthy who can perform a wedding ceremony."

"Well, the Dursleys sometimes went to church. We could use a Muggle vicar. Just have a few people witness it. Then, just before our child goes to Hogwarts, we'll come back into the Wizarding World's limelight and have that big, fairytale wedding you want."

Ginny smiled. "Sounds like a plan. We'll have to wait two weeks before we find this Muggle vicar though."

"Huh?"

"Ron and Hermione need to be there and they don't come back from their honeymoon for another two weeks."

"Right," Harry said breathlessly. "Two weeks." He looked nervous.

-------

Parvati Patil could not remember the last time she ran so fast. Her robes billowed around her and her bracelets jingled on her wrists as she dodged faceless shoppers in Diagon Alley, hurtling toward her bright and flashy destination. She had to warn them. She very well may lose her job in the process, but she had to warn them; they were her friends.

Finally, she burst through the doors of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Her eyes frantically shot around the store, searching for the tell-tale red hair.

"Parvati?"

Parvati turned suddenly and ran right into a broad chest as strong arms steadied her. Looking up, Parvati saw that she had ran right into George Weasley. The twin's playful smirk was distorted into a look of concern as he stared down at her.

"George!" Parvati stated in a frantic whisper. "I need to talk to you somewhere private!"

George nodded silently, took her hand and led her into a side room, closing the door behind them and quickly casting a silencing charm. "What is it?" he asked her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Harry and Ginny are in hiding together, aren't they?" Parvati asked urgently.

George didn't answer. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Parvati was a journalist, and though she wasn't at a high enough level to be writing about Harry (she was still writing little reports on Hogwarts Quidditch matches), she was still a reporter, one whose paycheck could escalate by getting the scoop on someone as prominent as Harry.

"I think it's good that they're hiding. I don't want to find them or badger them about their lives," Parvati explained, only slightly hurt that George was suspicious of her; she had been a gossip in their school days after all. "But, George…they--the press--can track him!"

George's eyes widened in shock.

"I don't know how," Parvati continued. "All I know is that it's slightly time consuming and they only do it when they haven't seen him for awhile. It takes them approximately one hour to pin point his exact location! They're thirty minutes into it now," she continued. "They know that he's in Scotland. Northeastern Scotland, I believe."

"Shit," Fred swore as he began to pace in the room. His pacing didn't get him very far; they were in a small, cramped storage room. His robes brushed Parvati every time he passed.

"I tried to tell them that what they're doing isn't ethical, but they only threatened to fire me if I didn't shut up. So I came here," Parvati continued, watching in amazement as the wheels in George Weasley's mind turned. "George," Parvati grabbed the red-head's shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing and look at her, "get Harry out of where ever he is. They can't track Ginny."

George stared at her seriously. "You'll lose your job," he stated evenly. A knock on the door followed by a muffled voice sounded but both George and Parvati ignored it.

"I can't work for a company that treats my friends like this anyway," Parvati replied, she was vaguely aware of how close she and George were.

A genuine smile broke across George's face as he engulfed her in a hug. Their embrace was short-lived, however. The door burst open to reveal a bemused Fred and a livid Katie.

"What the hell is going on here?" Katie shouted. Half the store was peering at the sight. George's eyes skimmed over his girlfriend before locking onto his twin.

"Fred, we need to talk privately," he said quickly, leaving the closet and grabbing a hold of Fred's arm, leading him to their office.

"Don't you dare ignore me, George Lucas Weasley!" Katie shrieked, following the brothers.

"Katie, this is family business!" George said firmly, stopping to glare at his girlfriend.

Katie's mouth suddenly opened in a shocked and angered surprise. "Then maybe I should dump you so you can marry Parvati seeing as she obviously already knows what this family business is about!"

"Katie…" George started, attempting to explain, but it was too late. Katie hurled a trick wand at him and stalked out of the store.

Fred, who had a confused look fit for Neville on his face, looked from the door, to Parvati, to his twin.

"Fred. Office. Now." George stated, his face completely red. Fred immediately went into the office. George's eyes found Parvati. He mouthed 'thank you' before disappearing in the office behind Fred. Parvati wasn't quite sure what he was thanking her for.

-------

Ron sat back and watched as his best friend destroyed his childhood memorabilia. For once, he felt that Harry had every right to throw a fit and break things. Harry yelled at the top of his lungs and randomly threw things at a wall while Ron and Hermione sat calmly on Ron's old bed. Ron had a comforting arm around Hermione while she silently cried onto his shoulder.

"It's not fair!" Harry said furiously, as he finally sank down upon a stack of old comic books and ran his hand through his hair. "It's just not fair!"

A mere hour ago, the twins had collected Harry from his secluded cabin and brought the messy-haired 20-year-old back to the Burrow. Ron and Hermione, who had just returned home from their honeymoon the day before, were having a cup of tea with Molly and Arthur when a livid Harry and downtrodden twins Apparated into the kitchen. Harry had stomped up to Ron's old bedroom without saying a word. Ron and Hermione followed while the twins explained what happened to their parents.

"What are you guys going to do?"

Ron snapped out of his reverie and looked at Harry who was now gazing at the couple through red-rimmed eyes.

"Do about what?" Ron asked.

"Your children. Well…future children. Are you going to let the world know about them?"

Ron and Hermione both nodded. "We're not half as famous as you are, mate," Ron replied softly. "Our children will just have to put up with the press being at really big events."

"Harry, I know what you're thinking: Stop it," Hermione said at last, her voice cracking. Ron looked at her, surprised. Hermione met her husband's eyes. "He's thinking about staying out of his child's life," Hermione explained.

"Harry!" Ron scolded, glaring at his friend.

"I can guarantee that Ginny's thinking the same thing!" Harry shot back, standing up suddenly and pacing the room. "She's made up her mind; our child will not grow up famous. At least not until he or she is eleven."

"Well it won't work, Harry," Ron reasoned. "It'll be too easy for the press to figure out that the baby's yours. Ginny could stay in hiding by herself, but she'd go crazy being secluded in the woods like that."

Harry looked at his friends with sad eyes.

"That's why she'll hide someplace else. Someplace that's a bit more…populous."

-------

"So tell me, Gin, why America?"

Ginny stopped stuffing sweaters into a suitcase and gave an exasperated sigh before turning around to face Ron, a vein throbbing above her right eye. It was mid-November, she was three months along, and she had just staged a breakup with Harry (hiding her belly in a large winter coat) at the Three Broomsticks--needless to say that she was grumpy.

"Because it's big, Ron," Ginny answered, reaching out a hand to take the sweater that Ron was holding and placing it into the suitcase. "It's big and it's full of people with short attention spans. Besides," Ginny continued, cutting Ron, who had opened his mouth as if to say something, off, "According to _Witch Weekly,_ Americans are less fascinated with Harry than the rest of the world."

Ginny waved her wand in her nightstand's direction and a battered copy of _Witch Weekly _zoomed into her awaiting hands. She quickly flipped to the middle of the magazine and read:

"Though American wizards are eternally thankful to Mr. Potter for defeating He-Who-Shall-Never-Be-Named-Again, and despite American witches voting Harry as the sexiest wizard of the year--" Ginny paused and looked up at her brother, "you came in seventh, by the way--the general consensus between Americans is to let the boy live his own life. _'Harry Potter has done some truly wonderful things in his twenty years of living, but I grow tired of having to flip through stories about what kind of coffee he drinks,_' says one American reader. _'Of course I want to hear about any great deed he does, but I don't give a hippogriff's rear end as to whether or not he wears boxers or briefs_.'"

Ginny closed the magazine and gave Ron a look that seemed to say, _'See? I'm making the right choice.'_

"Did they really vote me seventh?" Ron asked, reaching for the magazine. Ginny sighed again, handed the magazine to her brother and closed her suitcase before glancing around her room one last time. The room hadn't aged with her; she still had a fairy lamp on her nightstand and a stuffed kneazle on her bed.

A warm hand appeared on her shoulder. Turning her head slightly, Ginny saw that Ron had given up on the magazine and was now gazing at her concernedly.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, his blue eyes boring into her.

It was not what Ginny wanted. Ginny wanted Harry's fame to disperse so that he could help her raise their child without the press poking their heads into their living room window. Sadly, that wasn't an option. Ginny nodded and Ron pulled her into a hug, surprising her by placing a soft kiss upon her head.

"We're going to be there for you, Gin," he stated, resting his chin upon her hair. "We're going to help you raise your child."

Ginny's lips twitched; she wanted to say something, but couldn't think of words to express what she was feeling so she merely continued to hug her brother until he released her and took the suitcase into his hand.

"Ready?" he asked gruffly, seeming slightly embarrassed over their little bonding scene and jerking his head toward her door.

Ginny nodded and the two slowly made their way down to the kitchen where they were both shocked to find Parvati sitting at the kitchen table, looking a bit apprehensive.

"Parvati!" Ginny exclaimed, her hands immediately going to her stomach in an effort to hide her slight bump.

"It's okay, Ginny," Parvati said, rising slowly from the table. "I know."

There was a moment of silence before a loud thud sounded from Ron dropping the suitcase, closely followed by him stating something about killing George.

"No, Ron! Please!" Parvati exclaimed, raising her hands in a stopping gesture. "We can explain."

But before anyone could do any explaining, George entered the room carrying a large suitcase, a distraught Fred tailing him.

"I can't believe that you didn't consult this with me!" Fred whined, throwing his arms up dramatically. "This is a life-changing decision and you just tell me it minutes before it happens! What happened to my twin?"

Ron and Ginny were both sending confused looks to George and his suitcase.

"George, what's going on?" Ginny asked softly, her brow furrowed as her eyes went from George, to his suitcase, and back again.

George glanced at Fred before turning back to Ginny and launching into an explanation. "Fred and I have decided to open our first Muggle branch of Weasley Wheezes in America. You know how we've been testing some products on Muggles to see their reactions? They love the stuff and half of them don't care how it works and the other half can't figure out how it works. We were originally going to open our first Muggle shop in London, but circumstances have changed. Gin…we want you to be the head of our American Muggle branch."

There was silence in the kitchen as Ginny blinked and Ron's mouth opened in shock.

"Me?" Ginny asked softly.

Both twins nodded.

"Look, you're raising your child in a Muggle neighborhood and he or she will be attending a Muggle school, so it would be best for you to have at least a semi-Muggle job. Problem is, you don't have a higher Muggle education needed for a Muggle job; and a good deal all your Charms studying will bring you when you're working with those machines that Muggles use…those com-pu-ters," George explained, stumbling over the word 'computers'.

"Plus, it's good for us because we need the managers of our Muggle branches to at least know about the Wizarding World," Fred added.

"Not to mention this is a good way for us to keep an eye on you," George continued.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Ginny broke in, raising her hands to silence her brother. "Thank you, guys. Really, this means a lot to me and I'll be happy to accept the position, but that still doesn't explain why Parvati knows I'm pregnant or why you have a suitcase, George."

Fred shot his twin a dirty look before sitting down at the table moodily. George seemed unfazed by Fred's actions and smiled brightly.

"Well, Ginny, starting up a new business is hard, stressful work and we want you to stay as far away from stress as possible while you're carrying our little nephew slash niece. Not to mention we'd just feel more comfortable overseeing the beginning ourselves, so I decided to move over there for a few months."

"What?" Ginny and Ron both asked, shocked.

"It's perfect!" George continued. "You'll have family close by, and I can help you during your pregnancy and when the baby's born. Not to mention we really do want to oversee the beginning of this branch. Fred's just grumpy because he's--well--to put it bluntly, tied-down."

"I can't take my pregnant wife outside of the country and away from her family," Fred mumbled at the table. "George and I had talked about getting our over-seas Apparating license and just Apparating over there during the day--which I still plan on doing!" Fred added, turning to Ginny earnestly. "This whole George actually moving for a few months to a year just came out of nowhere."

Ginny patted Fred's shoulder reassuringly. "I understand why you have to stay, Fred. You're starting a family here; you should stay with them. And George," Ginny turned to the other twin, "I really appreciate the gesture, but you don't have to follow me. I can take care of myself."

"We know that, Gin," George stated. "But I've already made up my mind. And that's why Parvati knows. I'm taking her with me." George sent a warm look to Parvati.

"I didn't realize you guys were so serious," Ron stated from his spot in the kitchen corner.

George and Parvati quickly exchanged glances, smiling slightly.

"He's divorcing me!" Fred wailed from the table, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically.

"I am not, you daft git!"

Ron and Ginny shook their heads as the twins launched into a slight argument.

"Harry's not here," Ron commented softly as the twins raged on.

"I told him not to come," Ginny replied. "If he was here, I may not leave."

Ten minutes later, the twins had reached some sort of understanding that no one else understood and George, Ginny, and Parvati were ambling into the fireplace, bidding Fred and Ron goodbye before Flooing to Ginny's new home.

-------

**Harry's Heartbreak**

**Many have speculated that the 'it' couple, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, would eventually breakup. Nevertheless, one cannot help but feel disappointed at the split. Earlier today, the couple argued over what appeared to be their previous disagreement over coffee in the Three Broomsticks. The argument cumulated to a mutual agreement to call their relationship off.**

**'Harry must be devastated,' one Daily Prophet reader mentions. 'I definitely wouldn't mind cheering him up though.'**

**This seems to be the thought that is going through nearly every witch's head seeing as a crowd of no less than one hundred and fifty females has gathered outside of his home.**

**As for how Ginny is taking the break up, no one knows. When questioned over what Ginny will do next, one of the girls standing on Harry's front lawn stated, 'Ginny who?'.**

* * *

**End Author's Note: **So there it is…my very long chapter one. It's basically just the exposition of the story. Now I feel as though I should address a few things. Firstly, my weird pairings. See…I was going to pair Fred with Angelina, but then I thought, "I always pair those two together! Let's do something fun!" and before I even realized it, I was writing Luna's name in place of Angelina's. And I was like, "Well, that's a weird pairing!" but they're actually kind of fun to write…and now that I'm on Chapter Three, I have their daughter (yes, they have a girl) all developed, and she's so much fun as well. As for the George/Parvati--that came out of nowhere! He was paired with Katie, and then that fight and the flirting happened and before I knew it, I was writing George/Parvati. I am merely a servant to my muse. Anywho, the next thing I should address is the Draco/Pansy/abortion thinger. See, one day I was in my poli sci class and we were on the subject of the legality of abortion and I was absolutely shocked at how many guys there were in the class who felt strongly that men should have a say in abortion. So I guess that's where that came from. Lastly, Ginny's reasoning that Americans are less star struck. I have no idea if that's true or not, but I was watching something on TV once and the TV told me that we Americans are apparently less interested in the British royal family than the rest of Europe (and possibly the world? I dunno…). Anywho, it's not important really. The majority of the story takes place in Britain. 


	2. Paradise Lost

**The Small Print  
**_By Siriusly Amused_

**Note: **Because I am an insane person, Hayden's POV will be in first person despite the rest of the fic being in 3rd. This is probably a no no in writing but I don't care. I'm just warning you so you're not like, "What the hell? First person?" when you reach Hayden's POV.

**Chapter Two:  
**_Paradise Lost_

**Six Years Later…**

The Bookshelf, home to Ron and Hermione and their ever-accumulating children, was a three-story house equipped with an attic, basement and small Quidditch pitch. It was located in the middle of a grassy meadow, and The Burrow was within walking distance. Ginny loved it; it was much like the dream home she had always wanted: brick with emerald green shutters, comfortable, warm, loving, and loud. Really loud.

"Tove! Stop it! If I see you pushing your sister one more time, I'm going to put you on diaper duty for a week!" Hermione yelled at the youngest of the triplets, brandishing the spoon she had been using to stir the spaghetti sauce with at him admonishingly. The five-year-old gave his mother an impish smile before running off to join his cousins and brother in a pillow fight.

Sighing and brushing a stray lock of wavy hair out of her face, Hermione turned back toward the stove and gave Ginny an apologetic grin. "Be glad you only have one," she said, stirring the sauce once again. "The triplets are such a handful at times; and with having to keep a close eye on Rupert as well, it can get pretty stressful. More wine?"

"Yes, please," Ginny said, holding out her wine glass as Hermione covered the sauce to let it simmer and grabbed the nearby wine bottle, refilling Ginny's glass and pouring a glass for herself before leaning against the counter opposite from Ginny and taking a sip of her drink, her eyes sparkling mischievously over the rim of the glass.

"What?" Ginny asked, knowing the glint in Hermione's eyes.

"Oh nothing," Hermione replied, swirling her wine around a bit. "It's just that a certain someone who's about yay high," Hermione raised a hand over her head, "and who has rather messy hair has been extremely happy of late."

"Hermione, shush," Ginny scolded through a playful smile, her eyes flickering to the living room to make sure that her son was still trying to suffocate his cousin with a pillow.

Hermione giggled and turned her attention back to the stove. "How's the store coming?" she asked, stirring the sauce once more and switching to a topic more suitable for little ears to overhear.

Ginny opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a shrill cry that was quickly followed by little footsteps on linoleum as Tatum, the female triplet, came running into the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheek and blood dripping from her knee. "Daddy?" she cried, her large, brown eyes frantically scanning the kitchen for her father. "Daddy!" she cried again.

"What is it, princess?" Ron asked, coming down the stairs in a hurry, Fred and George on his heels. Hermione had put the three of them on toddler duty, making them stay upstairs with Rupert where they were out of the way and unable to eat before dinner.

"Daddy, I have an abrasion on my knee that's secreting blood," Tatum explained in her expansive vocabulary, pointing to the cut on her knee.

Ron and the twins immediately went into father mode: Ron issuing comforting words to his daughter as he sat down at the kitchen table and took her into his lap, and the twins going into the living room to figure out which child needed to be disciplined.

Ginny watched her brother magically mend his daughter's knee with his wand, his forehead close to hers as he told her a joke to get her mind off of the painful cut as it healed. Tatum's smile reached her eyes and her tears quickly turned to giggles as Ron reached the punch line of the joke.

It was then that Ginny felt a small hand wrap around her fingers. Looking down, she saw her small son, Hayden, staring at Ron and Tatum sadly.

"Mummy?" he asked, his emerald eyes not leaving his cousin and uncle at the table. "Why don't I have a daddy?"

There was a loud commotion as Hermione dropped the spoon she was holding and gasped loudly, Ron caught himself swearing and quickly turned it into a more suitable word, and Ginny backed up in shock, her ankle hitting a cabinet painfully.

"Don't be silly, Hayden," Tatum stated loudly from Ron's lap. "You do have a daddy!"

Ron really did swear that time. He quickly stood from the table, holding Tatum with one arm as he used his other hand to cover Tatum's mouth before she elaborated.

"Tatum, honey, why don't you come help me with Rupert," Ron stated at once, rushing up the stairs with his daughter, her brown pig-tails bouncing with each step.

Ginny barely noticed her brother's movements; her eyes were planted firmly on her son. He gazed up at her inquisitively, his eyes large and shiny and conveying a hope that she will answer him. Ginny couldn't answer him. She opened her mouth, but only a strangled squeaking noise emitted from it. Her hands shook violently and before she could even realize what she was doing, her hand went for her wand. She pointed it at her son, opened her mouth and said one word that she would regret for the rest of her life: "Obliviate."

The following seconds seemed frozen in time. Hayden's eyes glazed over before blinking rapidly. The boy shook his head as if clearing it, then gazed up at his mother, his brow knitted in confusion.

"Why did I come in here again?" he asked her, his American accent apparent. When neither his mother nor his aunt answered him, Hayden shrugged his small shoulders and ran back into the living room, exclaiming to the world that his cousin, Tove, looked like a hippogriff's butt.

"Ginny?" Hermione whispered disbelievingly.

Ginny's entire body shook and Hermione stepped forward just in time to catch the red head as she collapsed into heaving sobs.

"What's going on here?" Fred and George had entered the kitchen from the living room and were looking at their sister and sister-in-law worriedly.

"You two. Cook," Hermione ordered, leading Ginny up the stairs. They passed Ron on the second landing. Hermione mouthed to him to go downstairs and handle things, and for a moment Ron looked as though he was going to protest, but ended up doing as he was told, giving Hermione a look that seemed to say, _'You'll explain later.'_

Hermione led Ginny into the master bedroom and set her down upon the foot of the bed. "Ginny? Ginny, it's alright," Hermione soothed, sitting next to her hunched-over friend and rubbing her back in comforting circles.

Ginny suddenly stood up and turned to face Hermione. Her face was red with fury as tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"It's _not _alright, Hermione!" Ginny yelled so irately that Hermione hastily placed a silencing charm on the room. "I just meddled with my six-year-old son's mind! My _own _son!" Ginny paused and glared at Hermione while breathing deeply. "I panicked," Ginny whispered after a moment, bringing her hands to cover her eyes. "He never asked me that before."

"The subject has never been brought up over the past six years?" Hermione asked, partly concerned and partly amazed.

Ginny shook her head, her hands still covering her eyes.

"Surely you and Harry talked about what you're going to tell him?" Hermione stated.

Ginny shook her head again.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, standing from the bed, her eyes flashing with a disbelieving fury. "You visit Harry several times a month, Ginny! You guys had six years to broach the subject."

"It's not exactly a subject we like to talk about!" Ginny retaliated, lowering her hands and glaring at her friend. "You'd understand if you didn't have the privilege of sleeping next to your husband every night."

Hermione, who looked as though she was about to shout back, closed her mouth indignantly at the statement. The two friends stared at each other for several minutes before Ginny sighed and settled back onto the bed.

"How can I tell a six-year-old that he has a father but can't be with him?" Ginny asked Hermione softly. "He'd hate me."

Hermione immediately opened her mouth to say _'He won't hate you,'_ but decided against it, realizing that the boy would, indeed, hate her.Unable to think of anything comforting to say, Hermione merely sat next to her friend, their postures were that of mothers who had the weight of the world on their shoulders.

-------

Harry Potter choked down his tea while trying to convey a look to Ron, asking for a stronger drink. Ron's blue eyes caught Harry's green ones and a moment later, though no words were exchanged, Ron was up and asking if anyone wanted a brandy.

"Me," Harry said at once, ignoring Ginny's glare. It was late at night and the quartet was sitting near the lit fireplace, drinking in silence, the air thick with tension between them.

Harry had arrived at The Bookshelf after the children had been put to bed. He did this every year on his son's birthday; it was the only day of the year that Harry allowed himself to come within close proximity of his son.

After Harry had seen his sleeping six-year-old, he went back down the stairs to enjoy a quiet evening with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, but Ginny had taken him aside and told him of what she had done merely hours before. Harry had been extremely shocked, but could not be mad at her. He probably would have done the same thing. He had tried to comfort her, but Ginny seemed so disgusted with herself that she did not allow herself the pleasure of comfort. She sat some distance away from Harry, her posture cold.

Harry accepted the glass of brandy that Ron handed him. He was about to make a comment about the weather when Hermione spoke:

"Do you guys ever think about giving this whole hiding thing up and bringing Hayden home where he belongs?" she asked, eying her friends sadly. When both Harry and Ginny glared at her, she hastily tried to explain herself. "It's just that…Hayden's a very levelheaded six-year-old, and if you bring him home now, he may even go back to using a British accent."

"There's nothing wrong with his accent," Ginny replied vehemently.

"He has an American accent?" Harry asked curiously; he had never heard his son speak.

Ron nodded at Harry while the women continued to bicker.

"Of course there's nothing wrong with his accent," Hermione rectified. "But if Hayden has a different accent--well it would only be one more thing that sets him apart from the rest of the children. Besides," Hermione paused and blushed, her eyes adverting themselves away from her friends, "it'll be easier for Harry to bond with his son now as opposed to when Hayden's eleven. The older he gets, the more of a grudge he'll hold against his nonexistent father."

Harry and Ginny exchanged worried looks at this. They had always assumed that Hayden would readily accept Harry as his father, but what Hermione was saying was making sense. Were they doing the right thing?

Before anyone could say anything else, however, a cry echoed through the house and moments later, just as the adults were standing to see which child needed help, Tristen, the eldest of Ron and Hermione's triplets, rushed into the room and threw his arms around Hermione's legs, crying.

"Shh," Hermione crooned, bending down to pick her son up. She sat back down on the couch, holding Tristen in her arms and smoothing down his vibrant red hair. The boy's small frame shook violently.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, a concerned look spreading across his face.

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair before explaining. "We took the triplets to Diagon Alley last month and Tristen wandered off on his own. A nearby group of paparazzi found him and harassed him. They didn't do much more than back him into a corner, ask him a bunch of questions, and take his picture repeatedly, but it was enough to scare him. He's been having nightmares about it since."

The color drained from both Harry and Ginnys' faces.

"Hayden won't be introduced into the Magical World until he's eleven," Ginny whispered evenly. Hermione, looking chastised, nodded.

-------

**Three years later…**

"Give it back! It's mine!"

"I don't see your name on it!"

"Tatum. Tove. Knock it off would you?"

"Heeeyyy! Callie! Give it back!"

"Tove, don't hit her!"

"Tove only thinks of himself."

"Callie, come on, don't say things about your cousin."

"Well it's true!"

"Rupert, get off the broom, honey. Maybe next year."

Hermione could not help but smile. The August sun was beating down on the backyard of The Bookshelf, but the adults were content under a shade tree, sipping beverages as they randomly and half-heartedly admonished their feuding children. Fred and Luna managed to convince their daughter, Callie, into giving the stolen fanged Frisbee back to Tatum. George and Parvati proudly watched as their six-year-old son, Bastien, coaxed a four-year-old Rupert off of a broom. Ron was grilling burgers, oblivious to everything and holding their two-year-old daughter, Emma, in one arm.

They were all gathered to celebrate Bill and Fleur's eldest son's eleventh birthday. The family in question had yet to show up as did another unit of the family.

"What's taking Ginny so long?" Parvati wondered aloud, pouring herself another glass of lemonade before settling back into George's arms.

"Hayden hates both the Floo and Side-Along Apparition," Hermione explained. "It takes Ginny forever and a day to coax him into the fireplace."

"Does not," came a soft voice from behind Hermione. The bushy-haired woman turned around to see a small nine-year-old boy with messy auburn hair and piercing emerald green eyes glaring at her.

"Oh it doesn't, does it?" Hermione asked him, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Nope," Hayden replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim shorts. "It only takes forever and half a day."

Hermione smiled and reached out for her nephew, embracing him in a hug. Hayden embraced her for a mere moment before running off toward his playing cousins.

"Sorry we're late," Ginny exclaimed, slightly out of breath from running over to the small group. She set the wrapped present she was carrying on the pile before bending down to hug each of her sitting siblings.

"It's okay," Ron replied, turning away from the grill with a plate of hamburgers and handing Emma to an awaiting Ginny. "The birthday boy isn't even here yet."

"They're going to The Potter Pad first," Ginny explained, rolling her eyes as though she thought the name was the most absurd thing she had ever heard of. "Harry wants to give Phillip his present."

"What's he giving him?" George asked.

"It's Harry. Guess," Ginny commanded.

"A plushie Voldemort?" George guessed and the assembled adults chuckled.

"Plushie Voldemorts…George, you may be onto something," Fred mentioned.

Hermione tuned them out and turned her gaze back to the children. Hayden was being enthusiastically greeted by his cousins, hugging them each in turn. Hermione thought it was cruel that Hayden got to spend so little time with them, but she never said anything; it wasn't her place.

'_Only a few more years,'_ she thought.

"LOOK WHAT UNCLE HARRY GOT ME!"

Everyone's attention was brought to the eleven-year-old boy running across the yard, a top-of-the-line racing broom clutched in his hand.

Phillip Weasley, the eldest Weasley grandchild, was arguably the most handsome boy in Britain. His longish, strawberry blonde locks constantly fell into his stormy gray eyes. On the very brink of puberty, Phillip's frame was starting to lose its childhood pudge, elongating into a slender physique, and Hermione knew that after a short awkward phase, Phillip would be the next it-boy gracing the cover of every paper.

The other children crowded excitedly around their older cousin, each one exclaiming their awe over the sleek new racing broom.

"It ees a nice gift, don't you theenk?" Fleur asked as she settled in a lawn chair next to Hermione's, her seven-year-old beauty of a daughter, Alaina, sitting on the ground next to her.

"I think Harry out did us this year," Bill answered, thumping each of his brothers on the back.

"So is Phillip all set for Hogwarts then?" Ginny asked her sister-in-law as kindly as she could.

"Yes. We bought all of 'is supplies yester…"

"Daddy! Daddy could you teach us to fly? Oh, please, Daddy?" Tatum interrupted her aunt with her plea, running up to Ron with hopeful eyes, her brothers following on her heels.

"Yeah, Dad, you promised you would teach us this summer!" Tove added.

"Er…no I didn't," Ron replied, his ears going red as he sent a guilty look toward Hermione, who disapproved of her children flying at such a young age.

"Aw, come on Ron!" George stated suddenly, his arm leaving Parvati's shoulders as he stood.

"Yeah, flying lessons sounds like an excellent idea! Oy, Callie, sweetheart! Come over here, Daddy's going to teach you to fly!"

"Bastien, you wanna learn how to fly, right?"

Parvati's eyes suddenly widened in horror. "Um, George, dear, I don't really think…"

"Bastien can ride on the back of Callie's broom," Luna offered airily.

"I'm pretty much certain that's not safe, love," Fred replied, patting his wife's head.

"Can I, Hermione?" Ron asked, sending his wife a pleading glance. Hermione pursed her lips in indignation.

"Don't be such a kill joy, Mione," Ginny scolded suddenly. "I agree with my brothers; it's high time they start to learn." Ginny turned in her chair and her eyes sought out her son. "Hayden? You want your uncles to teach you to fly?"

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed and felt as though a rather large amount of static electricity had filled the air. Everyone's eyes turned toward Hayden, the only son of a Quidditch protégé. The boy in question was eyeing the nearby pile of brooms warily, but gave his shoulders a noncommittal shrug.

"Excellent!" Fred exclaimed brightly, rubbing his hands together and strolling toward the brooms. "So let's see, we've got Phillip, the triplets, Callie, Hayden, Bastien…" Parvati attempted to protest again but closed her mouth once she saw how eager her son looked to learn how to fly, "…Alaina, sweetie, you want to learn?" Fred glanced down at his young niece sitting pristinely at her mother's feet.

Alaina raised an eyebrow at her uncle and replied: "_Est-ce que je regarde comme je veux apprendre?_"

Fred stared at her blankly.

"No, thank you, Uncle Fred," Alaina roughly translated, her icy demeanor melting into a friendly smile.

Fred's smirk lit his face once more as he clapped his hands together and shouted out for the others to grab a broom.

"Everybody got one? Okay, good!" Fred grabbed his own broom and beckoned Ron and George to do the same. "Now, I want everybody to kick off of the ground and hover slightly. No…no…hover, Callie. Little girl, where do you think you're going?" Fred called after his daughter, who was dreamily and clumsily zig-zagging off into the distance.

The others laughed as Fred chased after his daughter, but Hermione was focusing on a different child. Hayden was successfully hovering a few feet off of the ground, just like his other cousins. Unlike his other cousins, however, his eyes were squeezed shut and his hands gripped the handle of his broom so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Hermione sent a nervous glance towards Ginny, who was gazing at her son and biting her lower lip worriedly. Ron and George instructed the children to tip the nose of their brooms slightly upward and to ascend to about twenty feet. Tristen, Tove, and Bastien did so at once and quickly shot past their fathers. Tatum and Phillip stayed behind and waited for Hayden to open his eyes and tentatively point the nose of his broom upwards; the three ascended at their own, slower pace.

Hermione felt Ginny grab a hold of her hand as they watch the small group come to another hover at twenty feet.

"Blimey! This is so cool!" Tove shouted down to the others. "Hey, mates, look how high we are!" he added toward his airborne cousins.

With bated breaths, Hermione and Ginny watched as Hayden ever so slowly lowered his gaze to the ground. They watched as his eyes widened considerably in horror. And they watched as he turned his head to the side and promptly threw up on Tove.

"Yuck!" Tove exclaimed at once, his hands leaving his broom in disgust which caused him to slide off of his broom. Before Hermione could even register that her son was in danger, Ron had gone straight into a dive and caught their falling child a mere seven feet before he hit the ground.

Her pulse pounding in her ears, Hermione rushed from where she was sitting and came to her husband and son. Ron had managed to pull Tove to sit in front of him on his broom and kept his left arm around his son, while his right steered the broom so that they could come to a hover close enough to the ground for Hermione to work a cleaning spell to get rid of the vomit that was covering them. She barely noticed that George had steered Hayden to come to a land next to them.

The boy jumped off of his broom as soon as he could and for a brief moment he stood, looking pale and sweaty before his knees gave out and he fell to the ground.

Ginny rushed forward and kneeled in front of her young son. "Hayden, honey, what happened?" she asked softly, gently coaxing the boy's chin up so that he would look at her.

In a weak voice that everyone managed to hear anyway, Hayden announced: "I don't like heights all that much."

The entire yard was silent as the resounding impact of the boy's admittance processed in their minds. After what could have very well have been ten minutes of silence, the combined voices of Fred and Callie filled the air as the two (Callie, who apparently lost her broom, was riding in front of her father) rejoined their family members. Their smiles quickly melted when they saw everyone's downtrodden faces.

"We missed something, didn't we?" Fred asked.

-------

**Two years later…**

Ginny stared at her ceiling and slowly watched it lighten with the approaching dawn. She hadn't slept at all that night, her body being nothing more than one big ball of nerves. The date was Saturday, May 23rd, 2012: Hayden's eleventh birthday. She knew that her son's life was going to change forever that day. In a few hours, they were going to head over to The Bookshelf. And Harry was going to be there; he was going to meet his son. Not just gaze upon him while he was sleeping, but actually meet and have conversations with his son. Ginny couldn't tell whether she was more nervous or excited about the meeting.

They were going to introduce Harry to Hayden as a friend of the family, and let the boy get to know Harry before dropping the bomb on him. The whole thing was planned out by Hermione. First introduce Harry to Hayden. Then introduce Harry's fame to Hayden. Then tell Hayden that Harry's his father. Then introduce Hayden to the Wizarding public.

Hermione had actually planned out the entire day:

Ginny, Hayden, Fred, Luna, Callie, and Harry were all to meet at The Bookshelf at four o'clock (England time) for dinner. Once dinner was over, Harry was going to Apparate back to The Potter Pad and grab his invisibility cloak before Apparating to Diagon Alley, keeping himself under the cloak. The others would arrive shortly, and the group would go into Ollivander's to get Callie, Hayden, and the triplets their wands.

"MOOOMMM! ARE YOU AWAKE YET?"

Ginny smiled as her son's yells reached her ears. She got out of bed and grabbed her bathrobe. Hayden was in the kitchen, still clad in his pajama shorts and T-shirt and pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

"Hayden, honey, we don't have to be at Uncle Ron's and Aunt Hermione's for another four hours!"

"I know! I know!" Hayden stated, sitting upon a stool by the kitchen counter, turning on the small TV and drinking his juice while he flipped the channels, searching for cartoons. "I'm just too excited! I barely slept at all!"

"Oh?" Ginny asked, taking a box of cereal out of a nearby cabinet and opening it. She tilted the box toward her son and he reached his hand in.

"Tell me about Hogwarts!" he exclaimed excitedly, his cartoons forgotten.

Ginny laughed. "Hayden, you read _Hogwarts: A History_! You probably know more about Hogwarts than I do!"

"What house were you in?" Hayden asked eagerly, grabbing another handful of cereal.

"Gryffindor."

"What about my uncles and aunts?"

"Gryffindor, with the exception of Luna and Fleur. Luna was in Ravenclaw and Fleur went to a different school--though she hung around the Ravenclaws during the year she spent at Hogwarts."

"Fleur went to Hogwarts for a year?"

"To participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, yes."

"Ah." Hayden's green eyes returned to the TV for a few moments. Keeping his eyes on the TV, Hayden opened his mouth and asked: "What house was my father in?"

Ginny's breath caught in her chest. Shortly after Hayden's sixth birthday, she had told him that he had a father and that his father was alive and well, but could not be with them even though he wanted to be. Surprisingly, Hayden accepted it and hardly asked about his nameless father.

"Gryffindor," Ginny answered quietly. She expected Hayden to ask more questions about either Hogwarts or his father, but the eleven-year-old remained silent and watched his cartoons, occasionally taking a handful of cereal.

Ginny watched her son, the early morning light playing across his auburn hair. He looked oddly calm considering the whirlwind he was about to enter. He was going to move to a new country and enter a new lifestyle. He would make new friends and new enemies, hit puberty and chase after girls. And he was going to be attacked by the Wizarding paparazzi.

_He was going to be Harry Potter's son._

-------

"Harry, mate, I think you should lay off the coffee."

Harry growled at Ron as the red head attempted to pull The Boy Who Lived's sixth cup of coffee away.

"Never mind," Ron stated at once, raising his hands and backing away from his best friend. He then turned toward Hermione and asked her if she wanted help making dinner. She growled at him as well. Sighing with defeat, Ron told his two irritable companions that he was going to check on the kids and left the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time until he came to the third landing.

All five of his children were in the playroom. Emma, the youngest, was playing with her enchanted doll house in the far corner. Her brown eyes sparkled with laughter as one of her dolls danced for her amusement.

The four older children were standing in a circle in the middle of the room. They were playing a game that Fred and George had created called 'Broken Bubble'. A large (and durable) bubble floated over their heads, and the children would take turns hitting the bubble with their fingertips as if they were setting a volleyball. Eventually, the bubble would pop and a large amount of green goo would fall upon the unlucky child who popped it.

"Hey, Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione wants you."

Ron turned to find eleven-year-old Callie standing behind him. As the only child of Fred and Luna, Callie was an unusual girl. She was dressed in violet rain boots, a denim skirt, and a green, long-sleeved shirt with a white tank top over it. She wore a lot of jewelry, her long blonde hair was in braided pigtails, and her eyes, which were typically blue, were pink owing to the fact that she was sucking on an eye-color-changing lollipop.

"Something about Aunt Ginny and Hayden arriving," Callie elaborated when Ron didn't respond.

"They're here?" Ron asked at once. Callie nodded and Ron immediately headed toward the stairs.

"Does Hayden know?" Callie called after Ron's back. Ron turned around and gave his niece a questioning look. "About Harry being his you-know-what?" she elaborated.

"No," Ron replied somberly.

Callie's eyes (now orange) widened. "Awkward," she said in a sing-song voice before turning on her heel and entering the play room. Sadly, Ron agreed with her. He turned once again and descended the stairs.

He could feel the tension in the kitchen before he had even entered it; it radiated about him like electricity, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

In the kitchen, he found Hermione, Fred, and Luna huddled in a nervous knot by the stove. Fred stood miserably in the middle, wincing as his wife and sister-in-law dug their nails into his arms. Silently, Ron walked over to the group and stood between Hermione and Fred, relieving Fred of some of the pain as Hermione latched her nails into his arm instead.

Sitting at the kitchen counter before them were Harry and Ginny with their eleven-year-old son between them. Both adults appeared nervous: Harry continually ran his hands through his hair and Ginny played with Hayden's hair as if she was attempting to make it lie flat. Hayden, who was very smart but hadn't learned genetics yet, was the only one in the kitchen who seemed at ease. He was very amicable towards "Uncle" Harry and asked him a lot of questions regarding Hogwarts, which Harry answered with a smile.

The minutes passed on without the tension lightening. Finally, a rumble of footsteps was heard and Callie, the triplets, Rupert and Emma entered the kitchen. Tove had a washcloth and appeared to be wiping green goo off of himself.

"Mum!" he exclaimed, throwing the washcloth on the counter indignantly. "I need assistance!" He stood in front of Hermione with his arms raised at his sides and his eyes closed, seemingly awaiting the Scourgify Charm. Hermione, however, had her eyes fixed on Harry and Hayden and didn't seem to notice her son's plight.

Ron hastily drew his wand and performed the charm, cleaning his son of the goo. He then used a quick drying charm. Satisfied, Tove joined the other children at the table. They were awaiting their food.

Ron nudged Fred and nodded at the cooking dinner. The two pried their wives' fingers out of their arms and began cooking, both of them realizing that they were about to sit through the most uncomfortable dinner ever.

-------

"Oh, Daddy, it's so pretty!"

Draco Malfoy smiled down upon his daughter. It was a week before her eleventh birthday and he had surprised her by taking her to Diagon Alley under the pretense of getting ice cream, but leading her into Ollivander's to get her wand instead. She now cradled the white, elaborately carved wand lovingly in her hands and gazed up adoringly at Draco, her gray eyes wide and sparkling.

Draco was about to suggest getting the ice cream that they came for when they ran into a large group of predominantly red-headed people. The group stopped and blinked at him.

"Draco," Fred Weasley stated, eyeing Draco with distaste. Fred's eyes then softened as they lowered and gazed at Draco's daughter. "Cameron." Fred graced the girl with a slight smile.

"Fred," Draco replied evenly, not bothering to greet any of the others.

"Mister Weasley," Cameron said, smiling back at Fred politely. Draco sighed and made a mental note to tell his daughter that she needn't be nice to these people.

The Weasleys and the Malfoys stood in a stony silence for a few moments before Fred mentioned something about being on their way and the entire predominantly red-headed group shifted to their right and passed Draco and his daughter. It was then that Draco caught sight long red hair. Ginny Weasley, whom he had not seen in what must have been a decade, was bringing in the rear, looking furtively around her and grasping the arm of a small boy. The boy, who had peculiarly messy auburn hair, turned his head and looked curiously at Draco.

The boy's eyes were emerald green.

Draco's jaw dropped and eyes bulged. He was so shocked that he did not realize that the boy--the possible Potter spawn--was giving his precious daughter a shy, lopsided grin.

**-------**

Everyone was walking way too fast; I wanted them to slow down so that I could take everything in. It was my first time being in a Wizarding place that wasn't a family member's home, and I just wanted to stare at everything; but my family seemed to be in some big hurry. They walked quickly and Mom kept a firm grip on my arm as if she expected me to break away from the group and run off on my own.

We stopped only once: when Uncle Fred ran into some blonde man he apparently knew. They talked briefly, then we all sort of shuffled to our right like one big school of fish and continued walking. I felt someone's eyes upon my back, and I turned around to find the blonde man staring at me. He was looking at me as if I were a strange, strange kid, so I looked at his daughter instead. She was very pretty, and I felt my stomach lurch a little.

And then they were gone, disappeared into the crowd, and Mom was pulling me into a dusty shop. An insanely old man looked up from behind the counter. He raised a scary, white, caterpillar of an eyebrow at us before locking his eyes upon Fred.

"Fred Weasley. Maple and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Very flexible," the old man said, smiling warmly at Uncle Fred before locking his gaze onto Aunt Luna.

"Luna Lovegood. Oak and unicorn hair…"

"Okay, okay! We get it! You remember every wand you ever sold!" Uncle Fred said, somewhat rudely. "Can we get a move on, please? We're in a bit of a rush." Uncle Fred waved a hand at me and the old man's caterpillar eyebrows shot up into his messy, white hair.

"Merlin's beard!" the old man whispered, keeping his eyes on me for some reason. Uncle Ron gave a cough and the man seemed to regain himself. "Alright, Miss Weasley, you first."

Both Callie and Tatum stepped forward.

"Oh, uh, Callie first. She's older," the old man clarified, and Tatum, looking highly disappointed, stepped back to join Tristen and Tove by their parents.

Callie didn't appear either anxious or excited. She strolled up to the counter as if she were shopping for underwear or something boring like that. The old man considered her for a minute, taking in her long, blonde hair and big, blue eyes before disappearing behind some shelves and reappearing with several narrow boxes.

"Here you are," he said, handing her a wand. "Beech and unicorn hair. Seven inches. Quite springy, just like your mother's."

Callie took the wand and waved it immediately. A stack of nearby books caught fire. Aunt Luna lazily put the flames out with her wand and the old man sighed.

"We're going to be here awhile."

After Callie's wand finally found it's way to her (an hour later, might I add), I stepped forward expectantly. I thought we were going in order of age, and I was the next oldest, but the old man waved me off and summoned Tristen forward. We spent another half an hour watching things randomly explode before Tristen's wand came forward and claimed him. Tatum was next. She, thankfully, had her wand within five minutes. Unpredictable Tove, however, took nearly two hours.

By this time, the sun was setting and I was bored out of my wits.

"And now, Mr. Potter," the old man said, gazing expectantly at me. I didn't move. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron frantically whispered 'Weasley'. The old man's eyes widened. "Ah, yes, Mr. Weasley, of course."

I stepped forward, my head swimming. Potter. Was that my dad's last name? The old man surveyed me for a long moment before handing me a wand.

"Chestnut and phoenix feather. Eight inches."

I took the wand and waved it, expecting something to catch on fire, explode or move, but nothing happened. The old man 'hmmed' in a very disconcerting manner and handed me another wand.

"Birch and unicorn hair. Ten inches."

I did another wave, and again, nothing happened. Three and a half hours later, I had tried nearly every wand in the shop. Only one responded to me by giving a feeble spark that was barely noticed. Mom purchased that one. Each parent then grabbed a hold of us kids and we 'popped' back to The Bookshelf to find Phillip asleep on the couch, a book on his chest.

He startled awake at the sound of us popping into the room.

"I was just…!" he exclaimed frantically, his voice squeaking. He looked at Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron guiltily, as if he expected to be punished for his lapse in babysitting. "Rupert and Emma are already in bed and I thought I'd just…" he trailed off when he noticed everyone looking so somber. "What's up?"

"Phillip, would you take the kids up to bed, please?" Aunt Hermione asked, forcing a smile.

Taking the hint that the grown-ups wanted to be alone, Phillip rushed us to the stairs, acting superior until we reached the second landing and his countenance melted into one that was equal with us.

"Okay, what happened?" he asked in a whisper, his eyes jumping from one of us to the next.

"Hayden's a…" Callie started before faltering and sending me an apologetic wince. That's when I truly realized how bad the situation was. Callie had a knack of stating uncomfortable truths; the fact that she found this one so uncomfortable that it was hard for her to say meant that it must have been really bad.

"Hayden's a what?" Phillip asked softly.

"A Squib," Callie replied in a choked whisper.

There was a resounding silence in which I could hear my blood thundering in my ears. I had no idea what a Squib was, but from the look on my older cousin's face, it wasn't good. Just then, angry yells from the adults floated up to our years.

"Bloody hell! They'll wake Rupert and Emma and I can't perform a silencing charm outside of school!" Phillip swore, straightening suddenly and rushing to Rupert and Emma's room.

I turned to my other cousins.

"What's a Squib?" I asked them. They all avoided looking at me. "Well?"

"Have you learned about genetics yet, Hayden?" Tatum asked me unexpectedly.

"Not really, no," I replied, my frustration growing. Was she trying to change the subject on me?

"Well the magical gene is a…" Tatum started.

"Tatum, you're just going to give everyone a headache with your wordy sentences!" Tove interrupted in an annoyed fashion, furring his brow and lightly knocking his fist on top of his sister's head.

"A Squib is a non-magical person born to two magical people," Tristen stated matter-of-factly. He was the only one who was looking at me.

"So I have no magic?" I asked, my tongue suddenly feeling as though it was made of lead.

"Well…you have very, very little," Tristen replied. "If you had no magic, your wand wouldn't have sparked at all."

I looked down at the bit of stick that I was still holding in my left hand. It was yellowish in color and very plain compared to my cousins' elaborately carved wands. A deadened feeling settled in my chest and I turned from my cousins and sat down on the floor along the wall, staring out into space. I was a disappointment. The black sheep in a family of talented people.

My cousins came and sat around me and we were soon joined by Phillip, who made Tatum move over so that he could sit right next to me. We sat like that for a long while, until the yells of our parents lured us into a distressed sleep.

**-------**

Ginny Weasley ascended the stairs and found the kids asleep on the second landing, using one another as pillows. A sad, almost bitter, smile played across Ginny's lips as she stared down at her sleeping son, surrounded by his cousins. She knew that he would forever be singled out among them; he would always be different.

Carefully stepping over a snoring Tove, Ginny softly shook her son's arm to wake him. His eyes opened slowly and stared at her; they were as lifeless as Harry's eyes had been during the lowest point of the war. Ginny felt her heart wrench into two halves as she stared at her melancholy son.

"I want to go home," he told her in a nearly inaudible whisper, his face completely devoid of emotion.

Ginny closed her mouth to prevent a sob from emitting and nodded, holding out her arms. Hayden very carefully freed himself from the tangle of Weasley limbs that he was in and embraced his mother, burying his head into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

A moment later, they Apparated into their living room. The sun was just starting to set in America, throwing the living room into shades of blood red. Hayden's arms remained around Ginny's neck and his head stayed buried into her shoulder. Ginny heard a soft 'plop' and knew that Hayden had limply dropped his wand.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. She did not want to look at the house she was in. For eleven years, she had thought of it only as a temporary home, her real home being back in England with those she loved. But she knew that she could never return to England to live. She had to protect Hayden. No one could find out that Harry Potter's only son was a Squib.

Taking in a shaky breath, her heart beating noticeably in her chest, Ginny opened her eyes and looked around at the house she would forever call home.

* * *

**End Author's Note: **I'm too tired to write a completely coherent EAN, so I'm going to make a list of things I want to point out.

1. When I was developing Hayden's character in my head, I thought it would be cute for him to call Ginny 'Mummy' from time to time. He has an American accent and generally calls her 'Mom', but every now and then he breaks out the 'Mummy', which of course causes Ginny to melt.

2. This one is more for those of you who have read 'Anthem'. In 'Anthem', Ginny and Hayden lived in California, but I think I moved them to somewhere in Central America for this fic because the time difference between England and Central America is 6 hours, which makes it easier for me plot-wise. Time differences are a pain in the ass.

3. I've added a lot of new characters, so this fic is challenging for me. I'm trying to introduce them slowly. Input/questions about these new characters (or even canon characters) are welcomed. And yeah, I totally named Ron and Hermione's two youngest children Rupert and Emma. Keep your eyes open for Dan.

4. The French I had Alaina say translates to something like, "Do I look like I want to learn?" I don't speak French and used Google to translate the sentence for me, so if it says something completely different, I apologize. I just figured that Fleur would teach her two children French. Phillip's fluent as well.

5. In this fic, Ollivander survived the Death Eaters and went back to work. Mostly because he amuses me.

6. Saitron Prince: I'm a girl.

7. For those of you who were wondering about my other fics: I've been insanely busy, but I've been working on them. I'm halfway done with the next chapter of HHII.

8. Everyone: Thank you so much for reading! I know these chapters are insanely long.

9. OH! And at the end, when I had a 13-year-old Phillip babysitting Rupert and Emma... He was technically supposed to be in school (because Hogwarts--as well as most English schools from my knowledge--lets out in June sometime), but I really thought it would be cute to have him babysit, and I wanted him to be there for the big "You're a Squib" thing, so I bent the rules and pretended that he was able to go home for a weekend.


	3. Things Fall Apart

**The Small Print  
**_By Siriusly Amused_

**Note: **I'm beginning to wonder why I decided to write this in both third and first person. I'm an idiot sometimes, but it's too late to change that. I also made a lot of original characters, and I'm trying to introduce them as slowly as possible so I don't confuse anyone.

**Chapter Three:  
**_Things Fall Apart_

"Hello, Ginny. Imagine finding you here."

Ginny Weasley slowed her hurried gait and turned her head to find Marcia Williams walking briskly beside her. The two women were headed toward the front doors of St. Brutus High and both of them radiated with frustrated anger.

"Yes, it does seem that our sons are joined at the hip when it comes to trouble," Ginny replied with a scowl. "Hello, by the way," she added, offering the other woman as kind a smile as she could muster under the circumstances.

"I can only imagine what they did this time," Marcia continued as they reached the glass doors.

"I'd rather not know," Ginny mumbled, entering the school. Ginny's and Marcia's shoes echoed down the hallway as the two made their way toward the office; once inside, the three school secretaries barely acknowledged their presence; Ginny and Marcia were becoming regulars.

"Ah, there they are now," came the voice of the school's superintendent as Ginny and Marcia entered his office. Their eyes quickly found their sons slouched in chairs that were in front of the superintendent's desk. Ash offered his mother an apologetic wince, but Hayden merely stared blankly at Ginny as she sat down beside him.

"Coffee?" the superintendent, a burly man in his late forties, asked, waving a hand at a nearby coffee pot.

"I just want to know what my son did," Marcia interjected crossly.

"Well actually, it was quite amazing. I don't know how they pulled it off!" the superintendent boasted merrily. Ginny and Marcia both raised irritated, questioning eyebrows, indicating that they had no patience for small talk. "They managed to lock the whole of the freshmen class on the school's roof!" the superintendent finished, clapping his hands together in front of himself and offering a wide smile.

Ginny felt the corners of her lips pull into a smile of her own. The prank sounded like something Fred and George would have done as teenagers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hayden smirk; he had caught her smiling and knew he was not in serious trouble.

"So what's the boy's punishment?" Marcia asked, outwardly annoyed at the superintendent's laid back attitude over the prank.

"Punishment?" the superintendent asked, blinking with surprise. "Well, they already got their driving privileges taken away for their last prank. We've got them on cleaning duty as well. Detentions don't seem to work for them…" The superintendent scratched his chin in contemplation. "I suppose I'll let them off with this one seeing as no one's hurt; however, there is something of importance that I would like to talk with you two about."

Ginny caught her son and his friend exchange frightened glances. They apparently did not know what else the superintendent could talk about.

"The school has just received the results for the SATs that the juniors took last month," the superintendent continued seriously, reaching into his desk and pulling out two large envelopes.

Ginny felt her pulse quicken. She had always been strict with Hayden where his school work was concerned, but his grades had been slipping. "And?" she asked, willing herself to continue breathing.

"And both boys scored exceedingly well," the superintendent answered, glancing down his nose at the SAT results in his hands, "which makes me wonder why they're both holding C averages in all their classes." He looked questioningly at the two teenaged boys sitting across from him. Neither offered an answer. "I've been getting complaints from their teachers about attitude problems," the superintendent continued. "For example, when Mr. Williams was in his art class the other day and asked to analyze a painting, he refused and used profane language."

Marcia glared at her son. "What did you say?"

"I just…" Ash began, a blush appearing across his visage.

"What. Did. You. Say."

Ash sighed dejectedly, closed his eyes and launched off into an explanation. "We were asked to analyze that banana painting by Andy Warhol." He paused and opened his eyes slightly, as if he was trying to plead with his mother to not make him continue.

"And?" Marcia inquired.

"And you know how I hate analyzing things!" Ash stated very loudly.

Marcia glared at her son, who was shrinking under pressure.

"So I said that it was just a fucking banana!" Ash finished in a rush, wincing.

"ASHTON JOSHUA WILLIAMS! I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO USE SUCH LANGUAGE!"

"And yet here I am using it." Ash rubbed a hand across his closed eyes.

Marcia's glare intensified.

"Sorry, Mom."

A chuckle sounded from the superintendent but was quickly silenced when Marcia directed her glare at him.

"So I just wanted to inform you of that," the superintendent went on, playing with the papers on his desk in an effort to not look at Marcia's intense glare.

"Thank you," Ginny said, cutting Marcia off from whatever tirade she was about to go on. The superintendent smiled warmly at her.

"Well, seeing as their last class is nearly over, I shall excuse the boys. You may take them home."

The boys immediately stood. Ash grabbed his mother's arm and led her out of the office before she could say anything more. Hayden waited patiently for Ginny to stand and say goodbye to the superintendent. The two walked out of the office and down the hall in silence; it wasn't until they were out of the school and heading toward the parking lot that Ginny opened her mouth to reprimand her son for his falling grades, but he cut her off with a very unusual sentence:

"There's an owl on your car."

"What?" Ginny snapped, furrowing her brow in confusion. She had been so focused on what she was going to say to Hayden that her mind did not register the sentence.

"An owl," Hayden repeated. "On your car." Behind them the school bell rang and Ginny heard the pompous voice of the superintendent as he left the building, heading to his own car. Her eyes quickly sought out her car and sure enough, a large tawny owl was perched upon it, a card attached to its leg.

Hayden was rushing toward it as casually as he could.

"Quickly, Hayden! Before anyone sees!" Ginny called after him in a strained voice. She watched as her son quickly took the card from the bird and shooed it off.

"Would you look at that!" called the superintendent from a short distance away. "An owl! In broad daylight!"

"Yes, it's quite strange, isn't it?" Ginny called back to him, hoping that he didn't notice the owl had been perched upon her car as if waiting for someone. Ginny was just beginning to relax when a loud and horrible noise issued close to her car; Hayden had tentatively opened the card, but had slammed it shut at the sound of the racket.

"Did you hear that?" the superintendent called across the parking lot.

"Hear what?" Ginny asked, feigning ignorance. Hayden was quickly scrambling into the passenger seat of her car. The superintendent furrowed his brow in confusion and shook his head.

"I must have been hearing things. Well, good bye Ms. Weasley!"

"Bye!" Ginny called, waving after him as she got into her car. Hayden was slumped in his seat, staring dejectedly at his card.

"They used a recording charm so that the card sings happy birthday to me," he explained somberly.

"Who's they?"

Hayden reluctantly opened the card once more and the car was filled with off key singing; Ginny noticed a male voice singing 'you live in a zoo'.

"Callie, the triplets, Alaina, Rupert and Bastien," Hayden read off before closing the card. "So basically the Hogwarts people."

"They sent an international owl!?" Ginny asked, shocked. "Do they realize how expensive that is?"

Hayden shrugged moodily. "Apparently not." He tossed the card to the car floor and Ginny felt her heart wrench.

She had given Hayden all of her old school books and he had read through them hungrily and understood nearly every concept of magic; however, as a Squib, he could not perform even the simplest of spells. As a result, Hayden had grown up in the Muggle World, attended a Muggle school, and had Muggle friends. He loved his family, but he had become detached from them; he envied their magic.

"Could we please just go?" Hayden mumbled, bringing Ginny out of her thoughts. The parking lot around them was filling up with teachers on their way home. Ginny nodded glumly and started the car, finding a spot in the traffic.

As she waited for the car in front of her to move forward, Ginny risked a glance at her son who was staring moodily out of the window. He had grown into a strikingly handsome young man. His hair was auburn, a mix between her red and Harry's black, but was as messy as Harry's has ever been. He had the Weasley height and broad shoulders, but his facial features were all Harry--right down to his piercing green eyes.

"Mom, traffic's moving," Hayden mumbled, looking out at the cars ahead of them.

"Oh! Right," Ginny uttered distractedly, gently pressing her foot down upon the accelerator. It was traffic like this that made Ginny wish for the old flying car her brother had lost in the Forbidden Forest.

"So…" Ginny started awkwardly. Hayden had his hand out, flipping through the radio stations for a song he liked. "Tomorrow's your birthday."

"Yep," Hayden mumbled, keeping his attention on the radio.

"Seventeen," Ginny added.

"Uh huh," Hayden answered.

"It's an important age."

"Not here it isn't." Hayden's voice had an edge to it; he knew what Ginny was getting at. Ginny sighed with frustration.

"You're going to your grandparents," she ordered.

There was a pause in which Ginny held her breath and then:

"Okay."  
"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

For a moment, Ginny was greatly relieved; then she grew suspicious. She looked over at her son and narrowed her eyes, but opted to stay silent. He was going to go, even if she had to grab a hold of him and Apparate herself.

**-------**

Pansy Parkinson smiled vindictively as the two Aurors in front of her fell to the ground. She had not used an Unforgivable on them, but something just as bad in her opinion: a curse designed to trap a person inside their nightmares. The two men on the floor jerked in their never-ending sleep, their minds haunted by visions of lost loved ones or perhaps a gigantic spider or two. As far as Pansy knew, there was no possible way to wake them up and their exhausted minds would eventually give up, causing their bodily functions to halt and resulting in death.

Pansy casually stepped over the bodies and entered the room that they had been guarding. All magical ministries were the same and the French Ministry of Magic was no different; The Room of Slightly Dangerous Artifacts was located in the same place in every ministry that Pansy had ever been in; the only difference with the French one was that a gigantic map of the world was hung up on one wall.

"All right, ladies," Pansy instructed to the four women behind her. "Start looking. It's a golden locket with a tiny diamond in its center." The women, each clad in matching black leather uniforms, began searching while Pansy turned toward the map and examined it.

The map was black, the borders of each country glowed blue and within each country, tiny blue dots appeared and disappeared, twinkling like stars. Within moments, Pansy deduced that it was a map that showed the occurrences of wandless magic. Lucius Malfoy had shown her and Draco a similar map located in the English Ministry of Magic when they were teenagers. He had explained that most of the time, the occurrences were merely young witches and wizards who had yet to learn how to control their magic, while a few of the twinkling dots belonged to older witches and wizards who could master simple, wandless spells. There apparently hadn't been any surges of powerful wandless magic since Albus Dumbledore died.

"Pansy."

Pansy turned her head to see Charlotte, a young blonde who had joined Death Eater's Daughters a year ago and had quickly risen through the ranks, holding a golden locket with a diamond in the center of the heart."

"Well done, Charlotte," Pansy complimented, gingerly taking the locket away from the young girl. The story of the locket had been an old folk lore that Pansy had heard from her own mother as a young girl. Legend had it that a golden locket existed and that whoever wore said locket would have the power to see everyone's darkest secrets and weakest vulnerabilities.

Reverently, her breath caught in her chest, Pansy clasped the locket around her neck. She expected to feel some sort of sensation, perhaps a shiver down her spine, but she felt nothing. Fearing that the locket didn't work, Pansy's eyes shot frantically to Charlotte, who was staring at her with an almost bored expression on her face.

"Well?" Charlotte asked with a sort of half shrug. "Did it work?"

Suddenly, Pansy knew not only that Charlotte wasn't a natural blonde, but also that she had gone to a Muggle plastic surgeon for breast implants, thought Phillip Weasley was attractive and had killed a would be rapist when she was seventeen. Pansy smirked.

"Phillip Weasley, Charlotte? Honestly!"

Charlotte mirrored Pansy's smirk and shrugged once again. The girl apologized for nothing.

Pansy's eyes immediately sought out the other three girls, all of whom were looking apprehensive, but before she could register any of their secrets, the map behind her illuminated the room in a blue light as a surge of wandless magic, stemming from somewhere in the United States, appeared.

"Charlotte," Pansy said, watching as the blue light faded on the map.

"Already on it," Charlotte replied, typing the coordinates into some Muggle device. The girl's ability to merge Muggle technology with magic was one of her greatest strengths that she had brought to the Death Eater's Daughters.

Charlotte's eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise as she stared down at the Muggle device.

"What is it?" Pansy asked.

"The only registered magical person in that area of the United States is Ginny Weasley," Charlotte replied, glancing uncertainly up at Pansy.

"Ginny Weasley," Pansy echoed, pacing slowly back and forth, her mind reeling. She had known Ginny to be a very accomplished witch when they were in school together, but she had never seen the youngest Weasley – or any Weasley for that matter – perform magic without the aid of a wand. Still, that was nearly two decades ago; Ginny could very well have become much more powerful since then. Her ability to perform wandless magic may have even been the reason why she and Harry Potter broke up all those years ago.

"It's the same town that has that Muggle branch of Weasley Wheezes; we'd be able to use the Floo," Charlotte suggested.

Pansy paused and brought a hand to the locket. She knew that Ginny Weasley would never willingly join their ranks, but perhaps she could be forced to. Surely the redhead had a secret. Why else has she been in hiding all these years, throwing fame, fortune, family and Harry Potter away to live by her self in another country?

Smiling, Pansy turned and faced the others. "Ladies, we have a trip to make."

The others smiled and Pansy made a mental note that Sophie wasn't really a size six before turning around and heading out the door. It wasn't long before they came upon a fireplace and moments later stepped out into a large office.

While it had been night in Paris, it was merely early evening in America, the sun slinking along the western horizon.

"She's not here," Pansy commented, placing her hands on her hips and glancing around the office.

"Most Muggles only work from nine in the morning to five at night," Charlotte stated. "She's probably at home by now."

Pansy let out a frustrated sigh. "And how are we going to find her home, Ms. I-Know-All-About-Muggles?"

Charlotte didn't flinch, but merely stared blankly at Pansy.

"Well, I'm assuming this is her house," Charlotte answered, pointing to a framed picture on the mantel over the fireplace. Pansy stepped closer and examined the picture: it was of a comfortable looking house, white with black shudders, and standing in front of it were George and Ginny Weasley, hugging with big, dopey Weasley smiles plastered on their faces.

Pansy nodded and signaled the others to Apparate onto the front lawn of that house. Once they were all there, they walked up to the front door and Charlotte pressed a mysterious orange button that sounded a bell within the house. Moments later, the door was opened to reveal, not Ginny Weasley, but a strikingly handsome teenaged boy who had particularly familiar messy hair and green eyes. Immediately, Pansy knew that the boy's biggest secret was that he came from a magical family and that he was terrified of his Muggle friends ever finding out.

"Can I help you ladies?" the boy asked, offering them a slight smile and leaning casually against the door frame.

"Is your mother home?" Pansy asked once she found her voice back. Those green eyes definitely weren't Ginny's! She only knew one person who had eyes that green and he was currently on the cover of _Witch Weekly_.

"She is not," the boy answered, his American accent thick.

"We'll wait then," Pansy stated, and before the boy could even open his mouth to reply, she took out her wand and muttered a charm that sent him crashing to the floor, unconscious.

Pansy stepped inside the house and knelt down beside the boy, running a finger along his slightly stubbled jaw.

"Ginny Weasley, what have you been hiding?"

-------

Ginny Weasley appeared in her dark kitchen, her arms laden with the gifts her family had gotten for her son. She felt exhausted and confused. It had only been a few hours ago that she had been chasing her teenaged son around his bedroom, trying to coax him into her arms so that she could Apparate them to The Burrow. But the boy, who had no intention of celebrating his seventeenth birthday with his grandparents, repeatedly dodged her lunges.

He had even, at one point, taken his wand out of his sock drawer and brandished it at her saying "_Imperio_" over and over again, of course to no avail. Appearing frustrated with himself, Hayden had thrown his wand down and glared at her.

Suddenly, a voice had filled Ginny's head, urging her to go to the party without him and, unable to stop herself, Ginny Apparated to The Burrow sans Hayden.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had asked where Hayden was and Ginny quickly made some excuse for him. She then spent the rest of the night in a moody silence, wondering what had happened and what exactly it meant. Hayden couldn't have possibly used the Imperius curse on her! He was a Squib! The very idea of him accomplishing even the Lumos spell was laughable! Yet Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that he had, in fact, used the Imperius curse on her without the aid of a wand or even mouthing the word.

"Ugh, Ginny you're going mad," she whispered to herself, rubbing her temples as she left the kitchen and entered the living room.

"Well with a family like yours, who could blame you? I would have gone mad a long time ago if I had six buffoons for brothers."

Ginny stopped, frozen, and stared at the darken figures sitting on her couch. Her hand immediately went to her wand.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, pointing her wand at the intruders. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness and she was starting to make out facial features on the women. The one sitting in the middle, obviously the leader from her posture and smirk, looked disconcertingly familiar. She had long, black hair and a face that resembled a pug.

"Parkinson!" Ginny whispered, shocked.

Pansy's smirk grew wider, more vindictive. "You're joking," she said, issuing a short laugh. Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion. What was Pansy on about? "Harry Potter knocked you up when you were nineteen and you bore him a Squib!" Pansy threw her head back and laughed loudly, her followers issuing giggles. "Harry Potter's only son is a Squib! Oh this is too good to be true! I guess that explains all the Muggle stuff around here." Pansy gestured to the TV.

"How do you…?" Ginny asked softly, the familiar fingers of alarm gripping her stomach, the hair on the back of her neck rising.

Pansy didn't answer; she merely continued to smirk at Ginny.

"The _Daily Prophet_ will love this story," she threatened.

"You wouldn't," Ginny stated, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow. She knew there was nothing that Pansy wouldn't do, including giving up her own daughter for money.

"Like keeping your son safe and sound, do you?" Pansy asked. Ginny glared at her. "I'm willing to make a deal with you, Ginny."

Ginny's eyes glanced up to Hayden's bedroom. "I'm listening."

Pansy stood and came closer. "First, you hand over your wand," she instructed, holding out her hand for Ginny's wand. "It's not like you need it anyway," she added in an undertone, and Ginny chose to ignore the comment. She handed her wand over uncertainly. Suddenly, her arms snapped to her sides as her entire body became victim to a binding charm. Pansy threw an arm around her. "I think you'll be very happy with us, Ginny Weasley," she stated and with several loud cracks, the entire group Disapparated, pulling Ginny along for the ride.

-------

My alarm rang, each beep piercing through my brain like a knife. It was Friday morning, the day after my seventeenth birthday, and I was lying on top of my covers, fully dressed, with a splitting headache and little to no recollection of what I had done the night before.

"Must have had a good birthday," I muttered to myself, bringing a heavy hand down upon my alarm clock and silencing the annoying beeping. I considered skipping school, but knew that I couldn't. Exams were less than a week away and I needed all the reviewing I could get. I some how managed to shower and dress with just enough time to catch the bus.

"Where the hell were you last night, man?" Ash greeted me angrily through a mouthful of banana as I sat beside him on the bus.

"Ugh, Ash, please use your inside voice," I whined, leaning forward to rest my head on the seat in front of me in order to stop the Great Headache of 2018.

"Are you hung over?" Ash asked. He seemed almost surprised about it. "Damn, you must have some cool grandparents. Can I come to the next family reunion?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, rubbing my temples.

"Well you didn't show up last night, so the guys and I thought your mom forced you to go to your grandparents for your birthday like she normally does. We all went to the club without you and Anthony tried dancing with some girl, but got dizzy and threw up over her, so we left early and I was in bed by 10:30." He paused and finished his banana, throwing the peel out of the window when the bus came to a stop light. "So what the hell did you do last night?" he asked, furrowing his brow at me.

I stared at him. "I wasn't with you?" I asked, my stomach suddenly feeling queasy.

"I just said you weren't!"

"Well I didn't go to my grandparents!"

"Then where the hell did you go!?"

"I don't know!"

Ash gave me a suspicious glare, his hazel eyes mere slits and his nose and face pinched. "You must have had one hell of a birthday," he said at last, very slowly. "And you only turned seventeen too! Being able to get into rated R movies without sweet-talking the girl selling the tickets isn't that big of an accomplishment."

I ignored Ash's rambling and rested my pounding head on the seat in front of us once again. My mouth was dry and I felt as though stomach acid was slowly making its way upwards. I tried to remember what I had done the night before but could only recall a hazy vision of Mom chasing me around my bedroom as if she wanted to hug me.

School was a complete waste of my time. All around me, my classmates, Ash included, took down studious notes in preparation for our final exams, yet I couldn't hear a word my teacher's were saying due to the insane ringing in my ears. My brain was working overtime in an effort to remember anything from the night before. It was in seventh period that an image of a group of leather-clad women flashed in front of my mind accompanied with a searing pain that made my vision go white for a second. I brought my hands to my face and clutched desperately at my thrumming forehead.

"Are you alright, man?" Ash whispered across to me, pausing in his note-taking.

"Did you guys send me a troupe of strippers last night?" I asked him. "Because their leader kind of looked like a dog."

Ash gave me an odd look. "What the hell did you do last night?" he whispered once again as if it was becoming a mantra for him, before returning his attention to pre-cal. I shook my head and gazed despondently out the window, playing absentmindedly with the student ID around my neck. "What did I do last night?" I whispered to myself.

My headache had only intensified once I got home from school. Throwing my schoolbag down on the foyer floor, I went into the kitchen, intent upon making a headache-relieving potion, when I saw a pile of presents on the kitchen counter. The bright Weasley's Wizard Wheezes wrapping paper suggested that they were from my family members, yet they were unopened, which meant that I most definitely had not spent the night of my seventeenth birthday with my grandparents.

"Mom?" I called out as my eyes lingered over my presents. No one answered my call. Figuring that she was still at work, I went to the garage, intent upon driving up to Weasley Wheezes to talk to my mother about the night before; however, upon entering the garage, I found not only my car, but my mom's car as well. She never Apparated or Flooed to work; it was full of Muggles. I ran back inside. "Mom!" I called out, running through the rooms of our house. Only silence greeted me. Mom was gone.

-------

Hermione loved Saturday mornings. She loved waking up to the sun warm on her face, and she loved lingering in bed, watching Ron sleep, one hand thrown over his eyes as he snored loudly. This Saturday was no different. The sun was shining through the curtained windows, casting a golden glow on her and Ron. Hermione carefully got out of bed so not to disturb Ron and made her way downstairs, stopping to check in on her eleven-year-old daughter on her way down.

Emma was still fast asleep, her messy mane spread across her pillows and her limbs stretching out over the bed. Hermione smiled and continued her trek down to the kitchen where she started making the morning coffee. The coffee was nearly finished when she heard a loud thump in the living room. For a moment, the hair on the back of Hermione's neck rose; then she calmed herself, telling herself that it was probably just Ron stubbing his toe on the steps or something. She entered the living room, fully expecting to see Ron clutching his foot in pain and muttering curses under his breath; however, she met a very different sight.

There on the floor and covered with soot was Hayden. He was on his knees, his head resting on the floor in front of him as his hands clutched at his dirty, auburn hair, his shoulder blades making sharp angles under his shirt.

"Hayden?" she asked, coming to kneel in front of her nephew. She reached out a hand to gently coax him into lifting his head and she was met with a pair of panicked, green eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper, her heart beating rapidly.

"It's Mom," he replied, his voice soft and hoarse, barely comprehendible.

"What about Ginny?"

"She's…gone."

For a moment, Hermione was certain her heart had stopped beating. "Gone? Hayden, did you two have a row?"

Hayden's eyes continually shot around the room, as if he was searching for answers he didn't have. "I…" He suddenly grimaced and brought a hand to his forehead as if suffering from an intense headache. "I don't remember," he said at last. "I woke up and she wasn't there. I tried looking for her after school, but I couldn't find her. No one's seen her. She didn't go into work. She didn't leave a note. Hermione…I think something happened yesterday!"

"What happened yesterday?" she asked. She hand her arms on his shoulders, supporting him; he was shaking under her palms.

Hayden winced and clutched his forehead again, his nails scraping against his skin as if trying to dig the answers out. "I don't know!"

"Well what's the last thing you remember?"

"Mom was trying to hug me. Then she Apparated without warning." Hayden was shaking violently now, sweat dripping down his face. "A little later, the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. There were some strangely dressed women there. The one that spoke had a British accent. They asked for Mom. And then…and then…" Hayden looked up, still shaking uncontrollably; blood had begun to drip from his nose.

"Hayden!" Hermione exclaimed when she saw the blood. She immediately cupped her nephew's face with her hands. Suddenly Ron appeared behind Hayden. He tipped Hayden's head back and placed a tissue over his nose, one hand on Hayden's head for comfort. His blue eyes locked with Hermione's.

"Memory charm," he explained in a quiet voice. "Breaking through them on your own is quite painful. You okay, kid?" he asked Hayden.

Hayden, one hand holding the tissue to his nose, nodded weakly. "We have to find my mom," he mumbled.

"We will. Trust me," Ron replied, hoisting Hayden to his feet. "Go get yourself cleaned up. We'll talk afterwards."

Hayden took a few steps toward the bathroom, then turned around and looked at them, his shoulders hunched. "Thanks," he muttered before disappearing down the hall and into the bathroom. Hermione glanced up at Ron.

"You're taking this quite calmly."

Ron shrugged.

"I'm worried, yeah. But I also know my sister. This isn't the first sticky situation she's been in. She can take care of herself. Right now we have to focus on staying calm for Hayden's sake and figuring out what to do next. Especially where Harry's concerned."

"Do you think Hayden knows about Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Ron said at length, scratching the back of his neck. "Hayden's a smart kid and it's not like we've been careful about not mentioning Harry around him. The problem is that Harry needs to know about this and I don't think either of them are ready to see each other yet."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well right now we're going to make breakfast because I'm starving and I can't think on an empty stomach." And with that, Ron walked into the kitchen. Hermione rolled her eyes.

-------

The boy's fist connected with Harry's jaw just as Harry's own fist rammed itself into the boy's stomach. For a moment both were disoriented; then the boy recovered and kicked at Harry's knee, causing him to stumble backwards. Harry's hand reached out and grabbed a hold of the strange tags around the boy's neck, pulling him along. Harry's back met with an armchair, giving him the support he needed to stay standing and before the boy could steady himself, Harry brought the back of his fist across the boy's face, causing him to fall to the ground from the blow. Harry took a step forward once the boy hit the ground, but the boy was quick to react and latched his legs around Harry's ankle, causing Harry to fall flat on his back and knocking the wind out of him. Before Harry could catch his breath, the boy was hovering over him, sending blow after blow to Harry's face. Harry punched the boy in the stomach again and threw him backwards. The boy skidded across the floor as Harry got to his feet. The boy rose as well and for a moment, the two stood on opposite sides of the room, glaring at one another and breathing heavily before they rushed toward one another, grabbed a hold of each other's shirt and raised their fists, ready to send another blow.

"Harry! Hayden! Stop it right this instant!"

Harry's blood ran cold at the name. His eyes widened. The boy's eyes, the same deep green as his own, continued to glare at him, full of hatred. Harry released his grip on the boy's shirt and took a few steps back, blinking rapidly as Hermione came to Hayden and examined his face: his lip was cut open and bleeding and a particularly nasty bruise was already forming under his right eye.

"He…he just came after me," Harry stated dumbly.

"So you hit him back?!?" Hermione yelled, turning from Hayden to glare at Harry.

"Well, it's not like he was going to win Father of the Year anyway," Hayden commented, bringing a hand to wipe the blood that was trickling down his jaw, and Harry felt something clench in his chest. Hermione turned back to Hayden, anger flashing in her eyes.

"You knew he was your father? You _attacked_ your own father!?"

Hayden shrugged and plopped down in a nearby armchair. "I have no father," he muttered and Harry winced.

"HAYDEN JAMES WEASLEY!" Hermione bellowed.

"No, Hermione, it's okay," Harry stated. "I deserved that."

"Hermione, what's going…oh…I see you two have met." Ron was at the foot of the stairs, his eyes going from Hayden to Harry. "Believe me, mate, this wasn't how we planned for this to happen."

"I…" Harry broke off and looked questioningly at his friends and then down at his seventeen-year-old son. "What's going on? Where's Ginny?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Now Harry, don't lose your head or anything but…Ginny's missing."

"Missing?" Harry's eyes immediately shot toward Hayden for an explanation.

"All I know is that some ugly bitches were looking for her. Well, actually, only one of them was ugly. And it was only her face. She had a really nice body and…"

"Why didn't you protect your mother?" Harry snapped. Hayden's eyes immediately narrowed.

"I was kind of unconscious at the time. Besides, they could do magic and I can't. What was I supposed to do? Hit them with my magic stick?"

Harry winced, realizing that he probably wasn't making the best impression.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't blaming you."

"It sure sounded like it."

"Hayden!" Hermione reprimanded yet again. Her face softened as she turned toward Harry. "Hayden's not a legal adult in the Muggle world," she explained. "So he'll be staying with us until Ginny resurfaces. We just…we just thought you should know."

Harry nodded and glanced over at his son who was staring lugubriously into the fire, absentmindedly wiping blood from his lip.

"We'll leave you two alone for a bit to get better acquainted," Ron stated, coming forward and taking Hermione's hand. "Try not to kill each other."

Harry sent a panicked look at his friends' retreating backs; the last thing he wanted was to be alone with Hayden. He had no idea how to act or what to say, and he feared that there was nothing he could say or do to make up for his seventeen-year absence.

Once Ron and Hermione had left, he turned back towards Hayden. The boy was still slouched down in the armchair and staring into the fire. He had pulled the collar of his shirt up and was currently pressing it to his cut lip, trying to stifle the flow of blood.

"I can heal that if you want," Harry stated, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Hayden. Hayden flinched as though Harry were pointing a gun at him instead of a wand. "Sorry," Harry quickly apologized, pocketing his wand. The boy relaxed once more, but continued to glare at him.

"You hate me," Harry continued quickly. "And I don't blame you. I'd hate me too." Harry had no idea what he was saying; his mind was reeling, everything was happening too fast and a part of him had no idea what was going on while another part of him was already planning on starting an investigation to find Ginny. "I want to make things right between us. If you'd let me." Harry held out his hand.

Hayden stared at the outstretched hand for what seemed like an eternity before getting up and walking away without a word. Harry's hand remained suspended in the air after Hayden left the room. He suddenly realized how Draco must have felt that first day on the train when he had offered his own hand. Rejection was a bitch.

* * *

**End Author's Note:** Okay, I have a few things to address.

I'm sorry it took so long to get this out (almost a year I think)! After I posted Chapter 2, I went through several months where I stopped writing all together. Then when I started writing again, I had to figure out where I was going with this. Plus, these chapters are much, much longer than my usual chapters; therefore, they take more time to punch out. I originally planned for this chapter to be longer, actually. Like much longer. But then I decided to cut it in half and have the rest occur in the next chapter.

Someone asked if the triplets should be a year younger than Callie and Hayden because Ginny was three months along at Ron and Hermione's wedding. Well…Hermione became pregnant on her honeymoon. I see Ron and Hermione as the type who would jump right into having kids…in this fic at least. So the triplets are born in August, three months after Hayden was born. So Callie, Hayden and the triplets are all in the same year.

I don't know if anyone thought this, but when I said central America. I meant central time. As in the time zone. They live in the mid west of the U.S. Another reason why I stuck them there is that it's not as populous as the coasts and that way Ginny would be the only registered witch for miles around. But really, you guys can imagine them where ever you want. You can stick them up in Alaska for all I care. The story's going to more or less take place in Britain now where it belongs, so it really doesn't matter.

Yeah, I think that's all I wanted to say. I'm going to bed now.


End file.
